Clark
by Ciella
Summary: Clark's trying to figure out who he is while he adjusts to a new life.
1. Prologue

When Grandpa passed away, I was eight- just old enough to be sad, but not old enough to really understand. I remember thinking how weird it was that we threw a party because Grandpa was dead. It wasn't really a party of course, but a funeral reception, and when most of the mourners had gone home, my mom and her brother awarded different family members their inheritance. But in my defence, there were presents and cake. All we were missing was the clown.

Uncle Mike and Aunt Sara had looked really confused. Uncle Mike received some sentimental items from his boyhood with his father, a shoebox full of baseball cards, a beaten-up old baseball glove, and a ball signed by his childhood hero. Aunt Sara got a few pieces of jewelry that my mom and sisters congratulated her on, but as a young boy, they were nothing to get excited about. The lawyer kept on reading the list, and Uncle Mike stopped her twice. "Wait, it just moves on to Carol then?"

The lawyer, Francine, looked over her reading glasses patiently, and slowly nodded. "Don't worry, Mike, it continues on like this."

Uncle Mike stood there scratching his head while my Mom accepted Grandma's engagement ring and recipe book and my two sisters received a small amount of money for college. Well, "small" for an inheritance, maybe, but we weren't a college-going family, so it was a very big deal. Aunt Sara crossed her arms, glaring at my older sister Dana, then ten, tall for her age with curly dark hair down to her waist. Dana was too happy to see, and thanked Francine. But my younger sister, Betty, stood quietly behind me with her envelope in her tiny hand, taking it all in as she often did. Betty stood on her tiptoes to whisper in my ear, "Aunt Sara wants Dana's money."

I looked between her and our Aunt, her attention still fixed on the lovely firstborn. "I think Aunt Sara's kind of a witch," I whispered back, having heard Mom use the word similarly. Betty's giggle bubbled out of her. Then Francine turned to me. I knew it was bad news when she got down on my level, as adults sometimes do when your dog "runs away". But I only got nervous when Francine took her readers off. "Clark, do you still have that envelope your grandpa gave you?" I nodded, producing it from behind my back. "Good job. That was very important to your grandpa, and it was the one thing he wanted to leave to you."

Francine never mentioned the farm that day, or if she did, it wasn't when us kids were around. Mom and Uncle Mike knew that it wasn't in Grandpa's will, and so must have been sold or left to rot. It would have been a pretty easy question to answer, now that I think of it. But nobody ever checked on the farm for another seventeen years.

Mom took Dana and Betty's money and put it away in a general college fund that any of us could use, and she worked hard to add even five percent of her paycheck so that we'd have a prayer of higher education without a lifetime of loans. But college wasn't for Dana. She fell in love with a nice guy named Tom, married young and started a family with him. Tom made an okay salary, not a ton when you've got four kids to raise, but they were doing okay. Dana made a little extra money on side turning their house into a daycare when Tom was away. Their house was, for many hours a day, a barrage of energy, noise, and color, but more importantly, it made my sister very happy. Incidentally, college wasn't for me, either. That worked out nicely, since Betty always was the smart one in our family.

Betty was going to finish her bachelor's that spring, and I was her biggest fan. Mom and Dana loved and supported Betty, of course, but their eyes glazed over when Betty started talking about her one true love: space. My baby sister was getting a degree in physics. Yeah, she was crazy smart, but you'd never know just talking to her. I used to buy the local Sunday paper every term just to check for her name on the Dean's List, and I found it eight semesters in a row. My baby sister was going to graduate _Magna Cum Laude_ , "with high praise." Maybe she would become a researcher, or an astronaut- who knew. Betty had got a world of potential beyond anything my family ever dreamed.

And then there was me. Just the day before, I quit my job of seven years. I don't really have any hobbies at the moment. My friends from high school were either married with children or making twice as much money as me because they had gone to college. Even my mom had moved on- she sold our family home and moved in with Dana when Betty left for college. When Betty came home on break, she stayed in Dana's finished basement. I didn't have a real need to move out when I did. I told my mom that it was because the new apartment would be a better commute, but really, I didn't want to hold my family back.

I looked around my little apartment. It was studio, about 400 square feet, or about thirty-seven square meters. It looked so bare just as I was about to move. At first, I thought I would box up my things and bring them with me when I moved. But then I really thought about it, and I knew that I didn't want to haul my junk-load of badly assembled Ikea furniture across the country. I found a number in Grandpa's letter and called it. The man who answered claimed to be the Lewis spoken of, and was able to answer a few questions for me, including what was already waiting for me. In the end, I left with what could fit in a backpack: my first aid kit, my address book, keys, wallet, a change of clothes and toiletries. I left that night, March nineteenth, and hoped to arrive in Stardew Valley by bus the next morning.

That night, it was too hard to sleep. I had texted my sisters and my mom to tell them that I was disconnecting my cell phone and gave them my new landline number. They had been confused at best. I told them that it was a matter of cost and that I was trying to save up for the future. But I couldn't stop worrying that one of them would need me before I would get to my new phone, like the time last year when my oldest nephew had been sick with scarlet fever, and I had stayed up with him all night until his fever broke, or the time Mom went on a date with a guy, only to discover through the Maître D' that he was a married man. She called me on my way to go out to drinks with coworkers, and I was secretly so glad because I don't really care for drinking. She apologized over and over again. She told me that she dumped him after leaving a note for his wife in his trouser pocket, because she had wanted to know when my dad strayed.

Thinking about my dad hurt. I tried to focus on other things. I had 500g in my wallet. It was going to have to stretch pretty far, but I was no stranger to that. I had already had my share of eating ramen for a week because I barely made rent. There might not be ramen in Stardew Valley, though; I might actually have to learn to cook. But there would be animals, I told myself, and crops. It didn't take a lot of cooking skill to pluck potatoes from the ground and eggs from the coop and fry up some breakfast. I would be okay. The land would provide.

When the bus pulled up to the stop, I got the sweats every city dweller gets in a rural area. I thought, this can't be right. There was no station, just a tilted sign reading "Stardew Valley." There was nothing there. There were trees and green mountains on the right, just as there had been for the past three hours, and on the left, there was a clearing, and a wind-softened wood fence. I stepped down from the bus, but I forgot to duck. Before I had time to grab my head, the bus was gone, the other weary passengers undisturbed. Someone asked me if I was alright. I moved my hand and blinked.

"Clark?" A small, older man called me. He extended a hand. "Are you alright? Looks like you really clocked yourself!"

"It was a long ride." In my head, I sound bemused, but I can tell from his face that I sound terse. "You must be Lewis."

"I am! I am. Follow me." He twisted an enviable silver mustache as he turned on his heels. I shifted the weight of my backpack on my shoulder and followed him as best I could. Lewis trotted along like the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland, mysterious in what business he must be late for, to be moving at such a speed. I took in my surroundings. A compacted dirt path. Tall, undisturbed sycamore trees, their pale park spiraling off in scrolls of parchment. Leaf canopy. The smell of cool, damp earth.

Suddenly, we reached a clearing. I figured we were crossing part of the forest that had been struck by a tornado until I saw the cottage. My knees got weak. A red-haired woman waved from the steps and hurried over at the sight of us. "You must be the new farmer!" she laughed. "Lewis had me check out your Grandpa's old cottage to make sure it was safe to inhabit."

"Is it?" I asked. I didn't mean to so sound brief. She laughed uproariously.

"Well, yes, after a few changes!"

"Thanks for doing that."

"No problem. Robin, by the way, the carpenter."

I shook her hand because she offered it, but it was always an odd thing for me to shake women's hands. Between my mother and sisters and their combined friends, I had come to associate women with hugs, and only men with handshakes. As a result, I think my posture or my face suggested that I was uncomfortable in moments like these. Robin gripped my hand firmly and looked me in the eye with regained confidence. I nodded, reassured.

"I've got to go, Lewis, but call me back if you have any problems."

"Thanks, Robin!" He seemed relieved. He turned to me with an air of shared secrets as Robin hurried off, "She's a wonderful friend to have, Clark. She'll never tell you this, but your grandfather's cottage was in _ruins_ when you first inquired after the farm a few months ago. She's worked her tail off to get it into its current condition."

I scratched my beard, which prickled in fear of debt. "What do I owe her?"

Lewis laughed, "All your future carpentry business!" I hoped against hope that what he said was true, that I didn't unwittingly take out a small mortgage just in moving here, at who knows what rate.

Together, we scouted grandpa's farm, an expanse of fallen and living trees, boulders, small ponds, waist-high grasses, and debris. There was a pile of ruins a few dozen meters away from the farmhouse, and the entrance to a small cave a few meters behind that. On the northern, southern, and eastern borders, there were exits that led into town. _What an idiot I am_ , I thought. I wanted to smack myself from just a few hours ago on the bus, imagining hashbrowns and eggs from a farm that hadn't been maintained in seventeen years.

Lewis showed me where I could find Grandpa's old tools, lifting the grate that blocked off the crawlspace just left of the porch stairs. "Do you need to know how to use them?" He offered cheerfully. I shook my head and mumbled thanks. "Well- okay then! Best of luck!" He said, as if in doubt, and left through the east-facing exit. I waited until I was sure he was out of sight before I tried to use any of the tools.

For the last seven years, the majority of my day consisted of some kind of typing on a computer. My hands were large and without callouses; as soon as I picked up the scythe, I knew that was going to change. The wooden handle was already worn smooth for me. I braced my left hand against the heel and my right along the shaft, steadying the blade behind my head and eyeballing a thicket of weeds just beyond my porch. I swung with gusto and cleared them to stubble with a swoosh. There was a lot of satisfaction in seeing immediate results, no matter how small. I tried out every last tool in this way, clearing just a small patch of land right before the farmhouse by late afternoon.

By then, my hands were red, raw, and blistering in some places. My back hurt. I was hungry and thirsty without any food or water. I stopped to think. My money was too limited to spend on food. If I had to go a day or two without eating, I could do that without any real harm, so long as I didn't overexert myself in that time. Water was a simpler problem. I poked my head inside, unsure if I'd find running water or not in an area this rural; I did, but I decided that I would still boil it for the first several days, as it was most likely well water, which I wasn't used to.

I put the tools away and tried to figure out where I might find something I could eat. Betty had had a field guide when she was in middle school, and I had laughed at her for talking about edible roots and shoots that could be found around us. What had been on those pages? I racked my brain, but thought of nothing. I washed my hands and cleaned up as well as I could before heading off to town. If nothing else, I had to introduce myself to this new community, and if I was lucky, I might find somebody who would invite me over for dinner.

The community was small by any standards. I had grown up in a town of 20 thousand people and considered it small because it was a suburb of a city with 8.5 _million_. Stardew Valley had so few people that it couldn't be considered a town or a village, but instead had to be defined by its geography. A thousand stereotypes raced through my mind. Would everyone be related? Would they be racist? Would they be uneducated? I checked myself. They might have had unpleasant assumptions about me, too, but I hoped they wouldn't. I hoped against hope that my grandfather had been well-liked and respected here.

One by one, I knocked on different doors, introducing myself as the new farmer as the light started to fade. People were polite, if a little guarded. Many of them stared for a minute when they first opened the door. It seemed weird to me, because there were several men with facial hair, but already I felt tempted to cut my beard. No one said anything outright except for the little kids, and their guardians were quick to shush them, so quick that I couldn't catch the hint in the hope of changing.

No one invited me in for dinner, but almost everyone gave me a small welcoming gift without being asked. By the time I was done introducing myself, my backpack was practically full of little jars of jam, fresh baked bread, canned veggies, and homemade sweets. I let out a grateful sigh as I made my way eastward across town. Most of the buildings were reasonably well maintained, at least in structure, with faded and chipping paint, sure, but also well-patched roofs and thriving flower gardens. Lewis's house was especially unique- tall, dark, and grand. It also made the last house stand out.

The little mobile home was grounded on cinder blocks in a yard full of trash. Now twilight, the early spring breeze snuck into every opening of my jacket, and made me wonder how cold it got in there. The yard before it was mostly crabgrass, trash, and weeds. I walked up to the door half-expecting to get shot at, afraid somebody's daddy might have had too much moonshine that night, as my imagination ran away with my fears. I knocked and waited. A tiny voice answered. I paused.

The woman who answered the door would have looked less out of place in the neighborhood I grew up in. Her hair was neatly done up in a bun, her blouse fresh and wrinkle-free. She looked up at me with bright green eyes like I had never seen in real life. People write about eyes "like emeralds" or on-par cheesy metaphors, but you never actually see people with eyes so green as this. Her eyes were so bright that they had a faint glow in the moonlight. I instantly wanted to see them in sunlight.

"Hello?" She peeped. She seemed afraid, half-hidden still behind the door.

"Hi," I garbled. I felt like a dog tongue-deep in a jar of peanut butter. There was supposed to be more after that, but I just couldn't get the words out, and found myself standing there and gawking.

"You must be… the new farmer?"

"Yep." I scrambled for something small to give her. If I couldn't make a proper introduction, I could at least be as kind as people had been to me. I found the prettiest little jar of strawberry jam someone had given me, the one with a yellow-and-white polkadotted cloth under the cap. "Just a little something to say 'hi'," I finally managed, turning it into her palm. The jar looked so much bigger in her hands. It looked like the right size.

"Thank you so much." She smiled faintly. I couldn't help but smile, too. I hope it showed through the beard.

"No problem. See you soon. Oh, I'm Clark, by the way."

"I'm Penny. Nice to meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine," I assured her. "Good night."

It took me an hour to walk home from the far end of town. Tired and sore, I left my shoes at the door and put some water on to boil in the weary old kettle. Robin had thought of everything right down to refilling the propane tank. I washed my hands and face and lit a few candles to eat by. I had eaten alone before, but somehow it was different now.

The darkness outside my window was complete. There were no visible windows or even buildings. If I were to open the storm windows and through the screen, the only sound I would hear would be the wind in the many trees that had reclaimed the land. I lit a fire to fend off the chill. While munching on jam and bread and drinking hot water, I looked around the tiny cottage, trying to imagine my mom and Uncle Mike running around as kids, Grandma going about her day. It seemed too small and sad a cottage to have ever had a family in it. The single room, so spartan, so bare, could only belong to a bachelor.

I looked at the red landline phone, mounted in bright contrast with the dark green wallpaper, looking so cartoonishly huge compared to the cellphone I had just discarded. I needed to call someone. First I dialed Mom, then Dana, then Betty, glad to recount the details of my trip over and over again, making it all real by saying it out loud. They all mentioned at some point that I sounded good and that they were glad I was okay. I wanted to tell them how much I missed them, but I couldn't make them worry. Small updates were exchanged. By the time all was said and done, it had gotten late, and I was beat. I hoped I was tired enough to fall asleep before I had too much time to think.


	2. Chapter 1

My first morning on the farm, I woke up half-in, half-out of the tiny twin-sized bed, the blanket mostly fallen off of me. The inside of the cottage was blue with early morning light. I sat up and scratched my beard. I couldn't remember the last time I had felt so well-rested. Still, I would have killed for a hot cup of coffee. I opened a jar of dilly beans and ate a handful before setting out to work. What an odd feeling not to have a commute.

I sowed my first batch of turnips as the sun started to rise over town. My mind was like an old cash register, spewing off a receipt from the top of my head. I needed more seeds to get off the ground. It would likely wipe out my savings, and I most likely wouldn't have any more money until harvest. That meant I needed some way to feeding myself in the meantime. The thought frightened me. I had never lived so far away from a convenience store that, no matter how broke I was, I couldn't get some kind of cheap snack. I had never known true food scarcity.

When the morning chores were done, I crossed my farm to the southern border towards the forest lake. Maybe there were birds to shoot and rabbits to trap. Maybe, in the library, I could find a book like Betty had had, and fill my stomach without poisoning myself. I followed the border of the lake, where thornless bushes clustered, speckled with tiny dark fruit. Just as I leaned in to pick a few, a woman's voice said, "Don't eat that."

I turned my head. The third redhead I had met so far in this town. Her hair looked natural, too. What were the odds of that happening in three unrelated women? "Why not?"

"They're poisonous." I looked between her and the fruit. They glistened juicily. "That's deadly nightshade."

I froze.

"Yeah, half a dozen of those will put even a guy your size in the hospital. If you're looking to forage, follow me. I know a place."

Leah and I introduced ourselves and crossed from small island to small island on rickety slat footbridges. She walked across easily without even holding out her arms. I wasn't sure they would hold under me, so I took baby steps. "How'd you learn to forage?"

"I got sick a lot in the beginning." She grinned over her shoulder at me. She reminded me of a drinking partner I had had at Joja, before she was terminated. "I hope this isn't too blunt- as you get to know me, you'll see that's just how I am- but you seem very new to country life. I know you're the new farmer and all. I just mean…"

"You're right. I don't have a lot of survival skills."

She hopped off the last slat. "Don't be embarrassed. It takes getting used to. What brought you out here?"

She had stopped, and I stopped not far behind her. "I don't know," I said honestly, with a shrug. Leah seemed to grasp my tone and expression better than most of the people I'd met so far in the valley, her reactions about what I'd expect based on what I'd meant to convey. She nodded.

"You don't have to know." She smiled, and waved her arm out before us. "Check it out."

This little clearing in the backwoods looked unlike anyplace else in the valley. It was obvious that this area wasn't travelled often, let alone trimmed or sprayed. Great patches of land were completely bald of grass, packed instead with a variety of familiar-looking weeds.

"Spring onions, wild potato- these are strange because they taste more like carrots. These brown mushrooms are safe, I can vouch for that, and the yellow ones too. I don't know the name of the root under the broad-leaf plant, but it's starchy and filling." Leah went on in this fashion for a few minutes. Her information was just right, brief but thorough, and always managed to answer my questions before I could ask them. When she was done, she pulled two folded-up cloth bags from her pockets and gave me one. "Here, take what you need."

I thanked her, and for a while we picked in silence. "What brought you here?"

"The worst creative block of my adult life," she smiled. "I came for a change of scene. What about you?"

I thought hard, pulling up a wild potato from so low on its stalk that my fingernails scraped the dirt. "I came to figure some things out."

"Sounds like we have a lot in common."

"Sounds like it, yeah."

"Getting used to life here isn't as hard as it looks. This is probably the hardest things will ever be for you, this first spring. Because you have no safety nets- all your money is tied up in crops, and you haven't had any harvests yet, meaning you have no stores. But beyond this, money isn't much of a concern here. Once you figure out how to come by, preserve, and store all the food you need, you're pretty free to do whatever you please."

"Sounds good," I say, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "I'm gonna head back."

"Real quick, before you go- Willy's teaching me how to fish tomorrow evening. You should come and learn, too. Afterwards we're going to have a bonfire, and you can meet Elliott."

"What time?"

"Sevenish."

"Great." By this point, we had crossed back almost to Leah's cottage, and were able to go our separate ways shortly after saying goodbye.

That afternoon I visited the library for a book on food storage. I borrowed it and applied what I found to what I had foraged with Leah, hoping I could keep it fresh for at least a week. Clustering food-gathering trips would get me the most food per trip, and leave me more time for more important things, I reasoned. I fell asleep faster knowing that someone was waiting for me the next day.

Lots of people in developed areas talk about "getting off the grid." We grew up with good infrastructure, power and water supplied by district lines, gas pumped through massive industrial pipes that snaked silently beneath suburban homes and hidden within the innermost walls of skyscrapers. Our amenities were expected, reliable, regulated, 99.9 percent of the time. Then, maybe once a year or less frequently, a storm would knock out the power, or your water would get shut off for maintenance. People would act like it was ridiculous and the only "true" solution was to get off the grid- to supply your own amenities.

Of course it's annoying to wake up and discover that your power's out and your phone didn't charge at all last night, or realizing that your shower won't start after returning from the gym. But in an area like Stardew Valley, infrastructure like that was an unattainable luxury. It would be impossibly expensive to run pipes and lines out here. That's why all the landlines are satellite phones, and everybody has propane tanks, generators, well water, and septic tanks. Being off the grid changes the way you use amenities. If you run out of propane, for instance, it could take a week for more to come in, and that means a week without heat, hot water, or cooked meals.

That's part of the reason why food storage was so important. I grew up with refrigerators and freezers, ready-made meals, tupperware and ziploc bags. Out here, if somebody had a 2,000 or 4,000 watt generator, they most likely wouldn't use 500 watts to cool their fridge and another 600 to chill their freezer. They needed that wattage to service all their needs. That wattage would be used to keep the lights on, to keep the phone viable, to power things we don't even think about, like sparking the pilot light on a gas stove. This informed my desire to learn to can and dry and pickle as soon as possible. I would need these skills to build up my stores for my first winter.

As I arrived at the beach, I wondered who could teach me these skills, or if I'd have to learn them from a book. Maybe Leah would know. She seemed to be a treasure trove of useful information. She had survived her first winter, after all. The day was overcast and cool, doubly so at the dock. The waves looked choppy and gray. I looked around for Leah, but couldn't find her on the small stretch of beach, so I knocked on Willy's shed out on the pier. We shook hands and Willy handed me an old bamboo pole. He admitted that he didn't have the faintest idea where she was, but we could get started in the meantime.

We dug out a pit a few feet from where a stake in the sand marked a typical high tide. We dragged over some driftwood and started a bonfire, somewhere to retreat to now and again when the seaside chill got into your bones. Willy passed me a bottle of mead, and started teaching me how to cast. Eventually Leah and Elliott emerged from the cottage at the far end of the beach, and I began to understand. I passed them the bottle and they joined the lesson.

Elliott was an attractive guy, with perfect dimples and a self-satisfied gleam in his eye. It really bothered me that he never looked at me head-on. "Nice to meet you," he began smoothly. I couldn't help but feel that he sounded smug. "You must be Clark."

"Yup."

"He needs to learn all the same skills we needed to learn this time last year," Leah added.

"Oh! Why didn't you say so? Well, I can't promise you'll get good at fishing, but between the three of us, you'll get very good at drinking."

"Great." I tried to smile. Elliott looked at me knowingly, and smiled back.

"All jokes aside, you'll definitely want to become a decent fisherman. It can be hard to get any amount of protein around here. Someday, of course, you'll have livestock and from them all the meat, milk, and eggs you could want, but until then, you still need to eat."

"Yeah," I agreed. I realized I sounded short with him, so I went on, after a pause, "That's why I'm here."

We fished for a couple hours afterward. Willy started to get bleary-eyed around sundown. "Did I ever tell you about my lovely Frannie?" He sighed. Leah tried to signal me against it, but it didn't register in time. "Years ago, there was a woman who loved me as much I loved the sea. Agh, but I was a fool…"

Elliott lowered his voice. "He tells this story every time he gets drunk. You ought to go home. We'll take care of him."

"I really don't mind," I said. They seemed pleased. We listened without reaction to Willy's story of his long-lost love, lines in the water all the while. It seemed to bring him peace. When it was over, the sky was dark and full of stars. The fire was mostly red coals. Leah demonstrated unhooking a fish and spearing it for roasting. She explained what size was well-suited for roasting on the bone, and which fish should be kept alive in a bucket for cleaning and preparing at home.

I gently pried Willy's fishing pole out of his hands and replaced it with a speared fish. He was out of it, lost in drunken thought, but able to feed himself just fine. I took my own share of cooked fish and breathed in the smoke and steam. "Wow," I mumbled quietly to myself, already salivating.

Elliott laughed quietly. We all ate without much talking, Leah and Elliott sitting within an inch of one another. I struggled internally with why this bothered me. I was exclusively interested in women, but was also mostly friends with women, especially while working at Joja. I didn't think this was a romantic jealousy. What I felt was too vague, too dull, to be romantic jealousy. I didn't want Leah as one wants a partner. I resented that I had to share the woman who was, so far, my only friend in town with someone who was clearly very close to her. It was unfair of me, and I knew that.

When the fish were eaten or divided among us, I helped them get Willy inside and put out the fire. I walked home alone, trying to reason with my jealousy, my loneliness. Someday, I would be well-established in the valley, and would know everyone who lived here, and hopefully have lots of friends. I'd be involved in the community. I'd be known as someone who did right by their neighbors, someone who was reliable, dependable. I'd find the right girl, get married, have a family, and be inseparable from the lifelong valley residents.

Preoccupied, I took a detour to pass by the small mobile home, where the girl with the moonlit eyes lived. So far, I hadn't had a chance to see her in sunlight, or see her at all. She was reclusive compared to most people I'd met. I'd occasionally spy her in the shade of a tree or around the library, but I usually had no business with her, and was otherwise unsure how to approach her. I tried to think of an excuse to talk to her and find out what she liked.

* * *

 _Special thanks to ChocolateTeapot for always reading carefully and catching all my typos._


	3. Chapter 2

_Hi there, thanks for patiently waiting for this update. It's labor day in the US today, so I want to wish you a happy one wherever you live. I hope you enjoy._

* * *

After several days in the valley getting settled, I begrudgingly accepted a visit from Betty, my little sister. I wanted to make sure above all else that I could keep her comfortable and entertained before she came all the way out here. Now that my first crops were in the ground and I had a handle on the local layout, I gave her the go ahead to join me, and started cleaning. I asked her to bring a sleeping bag, but didn't tell her that I'd be sleeping in it. I could fall asleep anywhere, and it was more important to me that the lady got the only proper bed.

Betty arrived on the first bus the following morning. Dana and I are both olive-skinned with thick, curly black hair, and people typically assume we're siblings before we're introduced. But Betty looks more like Dad, with lighter skin prone to burning, and pin-straight chestnut hair. I met her with a bearhug that lifted her off the ground. She squealed delightedly, her snap clip catching the sun as I put her down. "Clarky!" She chirped. "How are you?"

"I missed you, that's for sure."

"Did you? With all the excitement you've had?"

"Of course I did," I said, picking up her luggage. "You know I never forget about you!"

"What's it like, living in Grandpa's house?"

"It's weird. Do you remember Grandpa at all?"

"I remember his funeral, and all the tension there was."

"But not Grandpa."

"No, not Grandpa," she admitted, looking down as she tucked some hair behind her ear. Then she looked up at me with bright eyes. "What was he like?"

I hid a smile. My sister asked for a description, but what she really wanted was a story. I set her luggage on my porch and started walking around the farm grounds. "Grandpa was quiet. He rarely said anything if he didn't have much to say. That kind of thing's unnerving when you're an adult, but kids don't really mind. He wasn't the kind of person to hug or kiss you, but he'd love to help you build a model plane, or bathe a baby doll, or do your math homework. Grandpa was patient. I don't think he ever raised his voice."

"What did you usually do with Grandpa?"

"Grandpa and I usually worked when I was here, and I loved it."

My sister bust out laughing. "Why am I not surprised!"

"How do you mean that?"

"All you do is work, Clarky. Apparently that was true even when you were just a little boy."

I smoothed my beard under my hand. She was right. "I'm trying to change that."

"I shouldn't have interrupted you. Tell me more about Grandpa and all the things you used to do together."

We talked for a long time, our walk outpacing the farm, and trailing into the backwoods and on still into town. When the first topic ended, I asked after Dana's family. "They're doing well. Tommy loves first grade, and the girls start kindergarten this fall; you'd think Dana's some old empty-nester based on her response."

"She still has Jake for a couple years!"

"I know, but try telling Dana that." Betty absently toyed with the loose ends of her hair as we went. "Dana's thinking about getting a part-time job while the kids are in school and leaving Jake with Mom while she works from home."

"But Dana loves being a stay-at-home mom," I mused quietly. "Are they okay?"

Betty bobbled her head. "I didn't mean to air their business. It doesn't seem like they're doing great. Even with two paychecks, it can be hard to keep the lights on and feed seven people."

"I want to help."

Betty looked mortified. "You _can't_ let on that I told you."

"I'm a farmer now," I told her, without expression. "The least I could do is feed people."

My sister smiled, playing with her hair again. "Just don't mention what you know, okay?"

"Sure."

I saw Mayor Lewis coming, but by the time I noticed him, there was no chance of escape. There were a handful of people that I had wanted Betty to meet, and Lewis wasn't really one of them. Somehow- I don't know how, but somehow- he recognized my little sister. "Last time I saw you, you fit in your Grandpa's little red wagon!" He exclaimed as he caught up to us, still rocking that enviable mustache.

Something registered on Betty's face. "You remember that? The one with one bad wheel that squeaked?"

"Yes, of course! When the grandkids were visiting, your grandfather couldn't be seen without it!"

"I don't remember this wagon…" I mumbled.

"Well, don't feel too badly, Clark, I misspoke." Lewis cleared his throat. "It had been a special gift for Miss Betty when she was a tot."

"Aww," I drooped. Betty patted my arm and laughed.

Lewis snapped back on track. I wanted whatever stimulants he took. "How long is Miss Betty visiting for, Clark? I'm sure a lot of folks will want to meet her and show her around."

"I can only stay for a few days. I'm still in school, and I can't miss my midterms."

Lewis nodded. "True, true. School comes first."

"Stop acting like you're her grandpa," I grumbled.

Betty laughed, and we ended the conversation with the promise that Betty would be back later in the semester. In the meantime, it was time for lunch. I definitely didn't have enough money to eat at the saloon regularly, nor did I really want to feed my sister at a pub, so I had prepared for her visit by buying some pantry staples I'd hopefully be producing myself in a couple weeks. Marnie had given me a nice discount when I mentioned that family was coming.

Time flowed by different with someone else around. My day naturally segmented into smaller, more manageable pieces. Instead of working until I couldn't anymore, and then going and seeing people in town for a few hours in the evening, I worked in the morning until she woke up, when we had breakfast together. Then Betty would take out a book and read while I finished the morning's chores, or otherwise help me finish them if I let her. We'd run errands together and then the rest of the day would be ours.

When it was time for Betty to go home, I had learned something important about myself. I really needed a woman in my life. Being alone was making things harder for me than they really needed to be. But it was the specifically the company of women that I missed. After all, I had grown up with only women. I wondered if it was sign that I should just go home and move in with Dana like Mom had, and added another paycheck to help feed their family. Or maybe it was a sign that I was ready to settle down.

I saw Betty onto the bus and waved her goodbye. Immediately, my heart was heavy, but it was important that the last thing she saw on my face was a smile. When the bus disappeared from sight, I let myself cry. I needed it. As brief as it was, I felt a lot better afterwards. The loneliness that consumed me now cemented the understanding that I was not meant to live alone.

By midseason, I had had several harvests of turnips, green beans, and potatoes. My savings looked marginally better than they had before, although most of my money was still tied up in the next batch of crops. Perhaps more important, I was almost independent of foraged goods now, outside of needing the occasional spring onion or horseradish for flavor.

Now able to afford some kale and cauliflower, I was excited to take several days off of sowing and harvesting, and let time make them valuable. I found other work to do. When the fortune teller told of good luck, I went into the mines and met a strange character named Marlon; there, I was able to make some money and collect some useful ore, but it wasn't easy or safe to come by. Mining wasn't something I enjoyed, and I quickly sought something else out, notably the ads posted on the general store.

Most of the ads were fairly simple. I could finish my morning chores, pick up a number of ads, and cluster the errands together so that they were all finished within a couple of hours. The pay averaged about 100g per errand, which often translated to 500 or 600g in just an afternoon. I was able to commission a silo from Robin earlier than I'd expected between what I'd saved and the ore I'd gathered. After several days, I had answered almost all the ads, and still had a day or two to kill before my next harvest came in. That's when I saw the ad I'd missed.

It looked like it had been up a long time. The ink had run from some forgotten rainstorm, and there were multiple pinholes in it from people posting over it. The small, neat print requested someone to clean up a local property. The pay was very low, and would probably break down to somewhere between 5g and 10g an hour. I looked at the address.

Not wanting to frighten her so early in the morning, I knocked lightly on the mobile home door. She answered, and her eyes were even more lovely in sunlight than I had imagined. Her hair was neatly coiled in a perfect bun, even at 7 a.m. "Good morning," I grunted, producing the ad from my pocket. "I didn't want you to worry when you saw me poking around."

"Oh, you're here for…" Penny blushed deeply across the bridge of her nose. I forgot to breathe. "Yes, thank you for coming. I'll show you what I need."

We walked the small grounds of the trailer, carpeted with trash and weeds. "No problem."

"Are you sure?" She looked up at me. "I don't want to impose. You must be busy."

"Positive."

She thanked me with a sighing, relieved voice and hurried back inside, returning in a moment with rubber gloves and a box of trash bags. "The mower is on the side nearer the river. I really can't thank you enough."

I nodded and got to work. It was a perfect day, even in full sun, and my heart swelled to think that I could help her out. It took over an hour and three full trash bags to pick up the small property. I almost laughed aloud when I saw the old reel mower, the kind that was just a cylindrical blade on wheels, but then again, I don't know what else I was expecting. It took another hour to trim the lawn to a comfortable height. I used my sickle as a makeshift weed whacker and trimmed up the borders. When it was all done, I leaned on the handle and looked at the trailer for one long breath. This didn't look like the kind of place where Penny would live. I imagined planting beds of flowers on either side of the door, putting up dark red or green shutters beside the windows, and adding a fresh coat of paint. I imagined Penny's face seeing the trailer revitalized.

The main task done, I knocked on the door once more to ask if there was more I could do. "No, that's quite enough." Her eyes were wide when she looked past me at the yard. "It looks wonderful, thank you."

"It really was no problem at all. I'd be happy to help you out with any other projects you might have," I said, surprising myself.

"I'll be sure to call you. Here, for your hard work." She gave me a small envelope with one hand and a big paper sack with the other. She couldn't look directly at me. "I couldn't pay you much, so I thought I'd pack lunch for you."

"I can't wait to try it, thanks."

I felt myself grinning like I hadn't in a long time as I walked away. Something in my gut told me that I shouldn't eat the sack lunch, just based on the smell, and I knew that the money in the envelope couldn't buy another bag of turnip seeds. But I got the slightest inkling that Penny was as happy to have a reason to talk to me as I was to talk to her. It was all the encouragement I needed.

The rest of the day was a blur. My crops still needed very little attention, so I used my time and energy to split wood for a chicken coop. I was grateful that Grandpa's farm was heavily forested. Lots of things lived on the property; I mostly heard them skulking around at night. I had found an animal bowl in the corner behind the cottage when I first arrived, and wondered if Grandpa had had pets years ago or if someone was feeding strays. Either way, I knew something would eat whatever was left in it, making it a convenient way to dispose of the questionable sack lunch.

By sundown, I was too tired to do much useful work, so I picked up the phone and dialed Leah to see if she wanted to fish by the beach again like last time. She agreed to meet me in an hour. I glanced at my fishing pole with a grin. It'd be great to wind down for a bit before bed. I just had to wash up first. I looked down at my hands, puffy, red, and covered in open sores. I had come to dread washing up. Just the cold water stung, the soap burned, and the antiseptic was the worst of all. At the bottom of the pack was a little can of benzocaine spray, which offered some relief. It took many band aids, but it was over soon, thank god.

With my fishing pole over my shoulder, bucket in my other hand, and on my way over to the beach, I couldn't help but whistle. The end of day noises- the cicadas and the songbirds- were fading, with the start of night noises, mostly crickets, swelled in the air. It was such a peaceful night. I took a moment to appreciate each separate step, each separate breath. I felt so alive. I thought back to my days at Joja, how much time I spent under fluorescent lights in a gray room behind a computer screen, dying just to look out a window or feel a breeze. When the spring night ruffled my hair, I thought to myself, I've been born again.

As I passed the saloon, I heard some commotion. I couldn't help but stand outside the window for a moment and listen. I couldn't make out much beside the angry babble of a drunk lady- or at least, I was pretty sure it was a lady. Gus's voice was measured but firm. Then, in just a moment, the door opened with a ring of the old bell mounted in its corner. I kept walking as though I had never stopped, not wanting to look suspicious. As I turned the corner, I made eye contact with Penny, her mother's arm around her shoulders. "Oh god…" She said, mostly to herself, her blush completely different than it was before.

"Hey," I said, as calmly as I could. "Can I help you get her home?"

"N-no, I'd rather you didn't."

I waited a minute, and offered quietly. "I don't think of you any differently for this."

She looked between me and her mother, sagging in her knees, and then over at their mobile home, just within sight. "Perhaps some help would be nice. But only if you really don't mind," she added in a hurry.

I waved off her concern, taking Pam's other arm. There was too much of a height disparity between Penny and I, though, and Pam looked like she was playing airplane. "What are you doing? What are you doing to me?" Pam slurred. I looked across her to Penny.

"I got a better idea, hold on. Let go of your side." Penny did as I asked, and I picked her mother up easily from behind her torso and under her knees.

"Put me down, you stupid sonofa-"

"Yeah, yeah, Pam, I'll put you down. In a few hundred feet."

Penny followed just behind us, her hand covering her eyes like a tennis visor. "I'm so, so sorry about this, Clark."

"Don't think twice about it. It's my pleasure." I looked over my shoulder at her and smiled. It was worth the trouble just to see her little smile of relief.

When we arrived at the mobile home, Pam felt sick. I sat her up in the plastic chair with trash bag and sent Penny inside for a cup of water. The noises coming from Pam made me nauseous. But soon enough it was over, and she was rinsing out her mouth and spitting into the bag. I helped her onto the long green bench seat at the back of the trailer while Penny tied off the old bag. It was important that she was propped up on her side. We lined the trash bin with a fresh bag and left it within her reach in case she needed it again.

In just minutes, she was sound asleep and snoring. Penny picked at one hand with the other. "Please," she whispered, "let me give you something small to say thanks."

"I can't accept that."

Tears welled up in her eyes. "I can't always take your help without giving something in return. I'm not helpless."

"No, no, that's not it at all," I promised, my hands dwarfing her shoulders. "It's okay to need help sometimes. We all do."

She looked at my hands and their many bandages with concern. I drew them back.

"Say, why don't you join me? I was on my way to the beach when I ran into you."

Penny looked over her shoulder at her mother. "I don't know how to fish or anything."

"You don't have to. I can teach you. Or you can just come to hang out and get out of the house for a while."

"Alright. But only for an hour or so."

I felt my face beaming. I tried to stay calm as I offered my arm. "May I?"

She smiled, the rosy blush blooming again across her nose as she took it. "You may."

When we arrived on the beach, Leah turned around from her spot on the dock and hollered, "You said an hour, Clark!"

Elliott barely turned his head to sing, "Yes, and all the best fish have already been caught! By me!"

"Can it," I called, as we took off our shoes before trotting over the sand. "I hit a detour."

Leah and Elliott were surprised but glad to see Penny. "Hey there, it's been a while."

"Where's Willy?"

"At the Saloon."

I shrugged at Penny. "You can learn on mine."

"I'm really alright. I'm just happy to be at the beach."

Elliott nodded in approval. His bucket was empty, and Leah had only one or two little sea chubs. Seems to have been a rotten night for fishing anyway.

For a long time, the four of us chatted while it got darker and darker. Leah, Elliott and I left our poles in the water, hardly catching a thing and laughing about it. I was grateful that there was no mead. Penny would not have tolerated it well. Elliott and Leah sat lovingly close at the edge of the dock, and I thought about how Penny had made my heart race when she took my arm. We sat a respectable distance apart. I dared to look at her pale face, looking longingly out over the crashing waves, her incredible eyes alive in the moonlight. She was entranced. It was my first chance to study her up close. She had full, pink lips like the bud of a new tulip and a button nose. Her eyebrows were almost completely hidden by her bangs, but they were soft over her eyes, and I could see she wasn't fond of shaping them. They were a light auburn.

Penny's glance shifted and she saw me looking. I wanted to look away. But then I met her eyes. I couldn't look away, and it seemed that she couldn't either. I lost sight of everything else, lost track of the beach, of our friends. All I remember is Penny's face against the night sky. She smiled, and I think I smiled too. We scooted a little closer together and broke our gaze.

Then Elliott called to me and brought me back. "It's getting cold. I want to get a few things from my cottage to keep us comfortable. Care to give me a hand?"

I joined him. I stood up too quickly and got dizzy, making it hard to travel over the sand, but he wasn't one to hurry. The wind snuck into my jacket from every opening and sent a shiver up my spine. "When did the temperature drop?"

"We've all been having too much fun to notice. I understand there's supposed to be a cold northern wind coming into the valley over the next few days. You might want to cover your crops in case of frost." Elliott passed me a couple blankets and set a few mugs upon a tray, dropping a teabag in each. An electric kettle had waited patiently for him with a liter of hot water in its belly. He poured it out into the mugs. "I've been meaning to ask you: do you have an interest in Penny?"

I shifted the balance of the blankets to follow him out the door. "Why do you ask?"

Elliott looked at me from where he held the door. "To help you, of course."

"Yeah, I'm interested in her."

He nodded as we made our way back across the beach. "I don't know her well myself, but between Leah and I, we can pass on whatever we learn to you."

"That'd be great." I tripped and almost dropped one of the blankets in the sand when a strong wind blew. "On that note, what are you and Leah?"

Elliott glanced at me with a sparkle in his eye. His hair was wild in the wind. "Oh, we're very casual, I suppose you could say."

I wanted to ask what that meant, but we were getting too close to the girls, and would almost definitely be overheard. I feared we already had been when Penny looked up at me with a start. Something had changed. She apologized to the three of us, saying that she had overstayed and had to get home to take care of a few things. "Did something happen?" I asked Leah.

"No, I don't think so," she said, as carefree as ever, taking a mug and a blanket from each of us. "Penny's just a bit more serious. If she says she'll be out for an hour, she really will get up to leave sixty minutes later."

"Just like you, Miss Five More Minutes," Elliott quipped, with grinning eyes.


	4. Chapter 3

One day in late spring, I received a package about four inches square and an inch or two deep. It was heavy for its size. I turned it all around, unable to find a return address or a note from the sender. Anyone I knew who would send me a package would want me to know who it was from, which gave me the inkling that either something bad was inside or it was from someone I shouldn't like to receive a package from. I decided to wait until after I had finished the work for the day.

It took me about two hours to uproot the crop stubble and till my fields with basic fertilizer. I mixed in some sand to break up the clay and help water drain better. I added scraps to the animal bowl behind my house, commissioned Robin to build me a chicken coop and a silo, and paid my tab down at the general store so I'd be able to buy summer crops the day they came in. But I could only procrastinate so much before my curiosity got the better of me.

I brought the package in from the porch and sat down at my little table by the window. My pocket knife cut easily through the protective brown paper and the tape holding the box closed. I waited a moment with my thumbs perched on the cardboard flaps, then opened the box with a sigh. Inside the box was a heavy men's watch with a brown leather strap and a gold metal frame around the dark face. I recognized the watch somehow. I didn't even want to touch it. But I had to reach behind it to get to the note neatly folded under it.

"To my only son, Clark."

I growled to myself, putting my head in my heads, feeling all the tension roiling inside, and then letting it come ripping out with a roaring yell. Thank god I didn't have any close neighbors. There was only one thing to do. I looked in the phone book, and started dialing.

"Hello, Anthony speaking."

I hadn't heard my father's voice in nineteen years. It was gravelly in the way I remember, at once harsher and more feeble. I had to swallow before I spoke or my voice would crack. "Hi Dad."

"Clark? Is that really you?"

"Yeah, Dad, it's me." It was a really strange feeling, realizing how much deeper my voice was than his; in my memories, his voice was the epitome of manliness. "I got the package you sent me."

"Do you like it?" He waited expectantly. I didn't reply. "I wish there was something else I could give you, son."

"We both know you don't treat me like a son."

"Clark, I'm sorry for what happened between your mother and I-"

"Stop."

"I really am sorry, Clark."

"If you're going to be sorry for something, it should be for what _you_ did. My mother," I snarled, surprising myself, "kept her promises."

My dad gave an impatient sigh. "It makes sense that you'd feel that way, having grown up with her."

"It's not like you ever showed up for custody. Or child support. Or ball games."

My father's voice become rough and quick. "If all you want to do is fight with me, what did you call me for?"

"Your return address."

"No, that watch is for you."

"It's to ease your guilt."

My dad was quiet. When he spoke again, his voice trembled. "Please keep it, Clark."

I hung up in frustration. I closed the box back up and left it on the table for when I was in a better mood to deal with it.

For the next several days, I was on-edge, largely keeping to myself because I knew I would snap at someone if they looked at me the wrong way. Part of me was stressed that Dad might try to contact Mom or Dana and Betty and that they would be involved. They all had enough to worry about as it was. Mom would probably hang up as soon as she realized it was Dad. Dana tolerated Dad. Betty was the one I worried about, the one who wanted everyone to get along and couldn't seem to understand why that wasn't possible. I was grateful that I had a great excuse for being a hermit with summer crops to plant on the off-chance that any of that should occur.

Even when I started to come out of my shell again, I couldn't seem to find anyone that I wanted to find. Leah was less available than she had been, and not in the fake way where you call someone and they complain about how busy they are; she just wasn't home. Elliott was nowhere to be found. Not seeing Penny was less odd, considering that she was a little reclusive, but it still would have been nice to see her.

That's how I wound up at the Saloon that Friday night. My eyes popped at the price of a beer: 400g, half a day of work. But I thought to myself, _there's no sense being a miser, everyone needs a little fun now and again._ "Hey Gus, you carry Guinness?"

"Of course," he said, pouring me a tall glass with a perfect head. "Enjoy!"

I sat alone for a while, watching the gridball game and nursing my beer. A guy about my age sat in the seat to my right, just riveted. "Who's playing?"

"Zuzu City Tunnelers and Castle Village Velveteers." He regurgitated the information robotically. I nodded like this information made sense to me. "You follow gridball?"

"A little here and there. What about you?"

That was all I had to say. He started talking about gridball and I couldn't stop him. It got intense, like to the point where I wasn't sure where to look or when to nod or laugh anymore. I was almost relieved when somebody smacked the bar. At least it broke the constant stream of sports talk.

"You!" I turned my head and saw Pam at the end of the bar, livid red and stinking of booze. "Why the hell are _you_ here?"

"To relax." I didn't mean to sound funny, short, or sarcastic, but I think some onlookers took my tone for deadpan, because they laughed. It incited Pam.

"Shut up," she growled at the room. "You. Bozo. What's your name again, anyway?"

"Clark."

"Clark," she sneered. "You trying to make me look bad, Clark?"

"Ma'am, what's this about?" I asked. Gus tried to intervene, telling me,

"This happens to Pam more and more often now. I wouldn't take it personally."

"Oh, it's personal!" Pam went on. "You're that ass who thinks I don't know what I'm doing! Cleaning my yard. Mowing my lawn. Taking my Penny out! I'm doing just fine on my own, thank you!"

I wanted to say in my defense that Penny had hired me to do the first two for her, but I probably wouldn't be doing Penny any favors. Instead, I breathed in the cigarette smoke on a few patrons' clothes and said, "Of course. I'm sorry, ma'am." Pam could be heard muttering under her breath as I walked away, the gridball kid still glued to the TV. When I walked through the archway, the room opened up considerably. The bar area itself sometimes felt like one long hallway. The poolroom was small but considerably less cramped, just a couple old arcade games, a pool table, a vending machine, and some old, overstuffed chairs.

The patrons in this room were different, too. Outside of the gridball kid, everybody in the bar proper was older and grizzled. The pool room hosted only three guests, all of them probably in their late teens or early twenties. Sometimes I forgot that young people lived in this town, between all the shopkeepers I did the majority of my business with. "How's it going?" I began, although it comes out like a grumble.

The emo girl smirked at me, and an equally emo guy, presumably her boyfriend, mutters a "hey" into the green velvet without looking away from the cue ball. A blond guy stared at me without saying anything.

I fiddled around with _Journey of the Prairie King_ , acknowledging that these people wanted nothing more to do with me than Pam, even if they're quieter about it. I resolved to play three games and leave the saloon. Behind me, the trio seemed to pick up where they left off. The emo guy asked the blond a question very quietly, almost in a whisper, and a lot of his words were unintentionally censored by the arcade sound effects. The blond guy had the kind of voice that you can hear anywhere, no matter how much he tried to conceal himself.

"Yeah, that's him," he said.

The emo kid said something else I couldn't hear, but I distinctly caught "Penny."

I kept playing the game. It was very similar to NES games I had enjoyed as a kid, and although I had never played this particular game before, the basics came naturally to me. I beat Stage 1 and a congratulatory sound played.

"Oh my god. Did you seriously get this far on your first try?" The emo girl was all but screaming in my ear. "Oh my god. How did you do it? I've been working on this game for months now!"

"She's terrible at video games," the emo guy muttered.

"What!" The girl shrieked. I was getting a vibe from her that she wanted to be a part of the trio much more than she was wanted. "Don't listen to him, you have to show me how to get good at this game!"

"I'll try," I told her, only to promptly die in Stage 2. "Well, sorry to get your hopes up."

"Aw man, try again! I'm dying to beat this game!"

"Abigail," the emo guy said, sounding like someone with a bad headache, "Please, just drop it."

The girl pouted, and asked if she could give _Journey of the Prairie King_ a shot. I obliged her. The intro music played. She died. The intro music played again. She died again. The emo guy massaged his face with one hand and waited for his friend to finish his shot. The blond guy was deep in thought, torn between the joy of sinking the 2-ball and the despair of sinking the 8-ball right beside it. "You solids?" I asked the emo guy. He nodded.

"You're the new farmer?" He asked me in return. I nodded.

The blond guy finally took the shot, sinking both. He walked away and swore. The emo kid sighed, re-racking the balls. "Good game."

The emo kid introduced himself as Sebastian and shook my hand. I was pleasantly surprised by his handshake, which was a lot firmer than I'd anticipated. While we stood close and the others were occupied, he told me, "You know, this used to be a really great way to spend a Friday night, but recently, these two have really been getting on my nerves."

"Sorry to hear it. Might be time for a change."

"Yeah, that's what I've been thinking, too." He chalked the cues and rest them against the wall for the next players. He took a black hankie from his back pocket and wiped the blue dust from his hands. "Been considering a move to Zuzu City."

"Cool," I say. I wish I could help him, but he's already done everything. I put my hands in my pockets.

"Hey, we were wondering about something earlier, if you wouldn't mind clearing it up for us." Sebastian looked over his shoulder to make sure Sam wasn't back yet. Behind us, the intro music played again and Abigail died again. "My friend used to have a thing for Penny, but she seems to be into you now."

"Oh, I didn't realize. Were they dating?"

"No, nothing that serious. But I'm sorry for Sam's behavior. He could be a lot friendlier to you."

"Hey, I understand. Look, I gotta go, but it's been nice meeting you."

Sebastian shook my hand before I turned away. "Nice to meet you, too, man. It's been real."

I said goodbye to Abigail, but she was busy dying. On my way out I saw Sam, who had just accepted a pitcher of beer and three stacked glasses from Gus. They were sitting on the counter while Sam waited for a basket of fries. His eyes were hostile as they settled on me, and I figured that goodbye was not in my best interest.

The next day was brutally hot. I was grateful that I had finished planting. Even rising before dawn didn't make the usual chores easier. I fed my first chicken at daybreak, and by 8 a.m. the heat distorted the ground in waves. Watering exhausted me. I frequently had to stop over the nearest pond and dunk my head or drink a few handfuls of water to keep going.

My plans for the day had been ambitious. With a silo, coop, and the very beginnings of a flock, I had hoped to clear some land that I had allowed to lay fallow while focusing my energy on crops. But it was unbearably close by mid-morning, and I doubted my own ability to cut fodder, break up stones, and build fences. Besides, the tiny chick that served as the start of my future flock seemed happiest indoors in the oppressive heat.

I quickly revised my plans. Land-clearing would have to wait until the heat broke, around mid-afternoon. In the meantime, I would do lighter work, and rest during the heat of the day. I spent the rest of the morning packing a shipping container with the remainder of my spring crops. I wrote a note for Dana and Mom to tell them that I was well and that here was a little share in my good fortune, but I felt some shame, as I only gave my contribution after I was sure I could afford my summer planting. I dreamed of the day that I could give generously and still live well.

My last errand of the morning, therefore, was to head into town and drop off the mail before the freight train left. The humidity was so close that my skin was slick all over by the time I reached the Mayor's house. The dust rose in clouds, clinging to my damp skin, as I set the heavy package down. I straightened up again, feeling the blood drain from my head. I felt faint and leaned against a column.

"Clark?" a small voice called me. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Maybe you should sit down."

"No, I have to get home, I have more work to do." As I spoke, I realized that I could not leave the column, or I would almost definitely pass out. I turned slowly so that my back rest against it instead, so I could look the speaker in the face, and so I would go down slowly if I fell. "Hey, Penny."

She looked up at me with concern in her eyes. It made my heart race. "Seriously, you can get really sick from heat like this. Don't push yourself too hard."

Something about her was different from before. Her body was always tilted away from me when she spoke. She seemed more reserved. I could hear the door open, and Mayor Lewis popped out. "What are you kids doing out here? You'll get heatstroke! Please, come inside and cool down."

I wanted to, but I feared my knees would buckle right in front of Penny. Mayor Lewis read my face and urged Penny to go in first so he could assist me. I was impressed with his strength. He was considerably shorter than me and probably weighed fifty pounds less, not to mention the fact that he was in his early seventies, but he bore my weight well. We walked in together, with my arm around his shoulders. He insisted we sit at his table and enjoy something cold to drink at the very least before heading out again.

While he prepared a tray, I took in the decorations of his home. At first I thought that he must have had a large family at one time, considering the table set for six, but then I realized that tea was arranged on a low table for two, the china cabinet was mostly bare because all its contents were laid on the dining table, and the photos on the walls contained no people. This was clearly a social place. There was no town hall, I thought to myself; this must be its substitute.

Mayor Lewis then set down a tray with pitcher of lemonade and three glasses filled with ice, with a little sweet pea on the side for decoration. "Here we are!" He exclaimed with pleasure. "Tell me, Clark, when can we expect Miss Betty to return?"

I smiled, at least until I saw Penny's face. She didn't look at me. I cleared my throat to get her attention, and looked her in the eye as I said, "My sister will be back sometime this season. She might even bring some of our nieces and nephews, our older sister's children."

"Delightful!" Mayor Lewis declared. "You must let me take them out in the wagon when they arrive. I love having children visit the valley, and knowing they'll go home again with only fond memories."

A smile played on Penny's face, not on the corners of her lips, right in the cupid's bow and in her eyes. "How old are your nieces and nephews?" She asked, her eyes twinkling.

"Tommy is six; the twins, Beth and Kayla, are four; Jake, the baby, is two." I had to count off my fingers as I went.

Penny looked away, but the smile remained. She played with her hair. I knew I was hopelessly biased in her favor when she took a habit I disliked and made it charming. "Do you think you'll ever have children of your own?"

"I sure hope so." I looked to Mayor Lewis, not wanting to leave him out, although he seemed content to observe. Before I could ask him a question about his family, the doorbell rang, and he leapt up to answer it.

I didn't recognize the voice of the person at the door. I heard Mayor Lewis say tersely, "You found my _what_?" before poking his red face back into the room to tell us that he would be a moment. He shut the door behind him. Just before he did, I distinctly saw Shane holding a pair of vibrant purple boxer shorts away from himself in disgust.

It was nice to have a minute with Penny. One of the things I liked best about her was that she was comfortable with silence. I didn't always have clever things to say. And she didn't mind that. It took so much pressure off me that I typically associate with dating. I cleared my throat again, looking into my lemonade. "What about you?"

Penny smiled to herself. "I love children. I want a big family someday."

"What's a big family to you?" I asked, with a grin.

She kept her eyes on the ceiling, blushing. "I don't know! Four, maybe five."

"People or children?" I asked, incredulous.

She laughed, "I suppose it doesn't really matter."

Seeing her laugh and be so open with me sparked the urge to kiss her. Not a tender kiss, either. Seeing her happy and flushed and carefree made me want to encase her sweet face in my hands and kiss her passionately, kiss her like she'd never been kissed before. My chest swelled with breath that reached all the way into my belly. I couldn't help myself- I reached for her hand across the table. At first she pulled away. Then she fanned her fingers, and let mine weave themselves between hers. It felt so intimate, holding her hand like this. I caught her eye and I saw in her what I felt in myself. She squeezed my hand. I wanted to cry out for joy.

The door opened again, and we separated. Mayor Lewis entreated us to please help him with the lemonade and not leave so soon. But we could see in his face that he was embarrassed, and really wanted his house to himself. So, much recovered, we graciously saw ourselves out.


	5. Chapter 4

Although farming in summer was considerably harder than it had been in spring, the profit was also more rewarding. Once the chilis and blueberries and hops started to come in, my average daily revenue quadrupled. By midseason I was also collecting melons, spangles and sunflowers, and on the days those crops came in, I made several thousand in a day.

My life started to change at a faster rate. It had taken all spring to afford a coop and my first chicken, but within a day or two of summer, my first coop was full. I commissioned Robin soon after to erect another silo and then a barn, and within a week I had my first two cows. While caring for my new livestock, something my Grandpa said came to mind frequently and brought me hope: animals are the farmer's salary. With the stability animal husbandry would bring me, I looked forward to a life where I could work less and live better.

Now that I was making more than enough money to survive, I made two important changes. First, I packed a little produce and a little money away for my family every week, picking everything a little green so it'd be perfect by the time it arrived. Dana called often to say thanks and tell me that I really didn't have to do this, but I insisted that it was something I wanted to do, unless of course it was causing her more harm than good. Second, I started saving to upgrade my house.

I had hoped that I would be able to finish the expansion before my nieces and nephew came to visit, but they started driving my sister crazy in late July. Poor Jake would have to stay home this summer, as he wasn't quite potty-trained yet, and I didn't really have the resources yet for a toddler. No doubt there would be tears over being left behind. But I was already worried about fitting three little kids in the single room I called home. Naturally, their visit meant I would need help.

"Sure, I can watch them while you're working," Penny assured me.

"You didn't let me finish." I waved my hand in a "wait!" gesture. "I fully intend to pay you."

"Don't be silly, you're always helping me."

"I know, but they're three little kids. It's a lot to handle."

"It'll be my pleasure," she said, quieting me with a hand on my wrist. Her fingers were pale and cool, delicate and soft, and their every trait was augment by comparison with my hairy, browned arm. I thought I saw her admiring my arms earlier. They were a little bulkier than I had known them to be in the bicep, and more defined in the forearm.

While I had regrets for being so calculating, I looked forward to putting Penny's earlier claims to the test. I loved the idea of a big family myself, but as the farm continued to expand from day to day and week to week, it became clear to me that I would need a homemaker for a partner if I should ever have one myself. While I waited for the train to pull into the station, I mulled over how I had come to such a queue of expectations. I had moved to the valley without particular directions in romance or business. The sudden change in what I wanted occasionally made me doubt if I knew what was best for me, but I also knew after a few months of loneliness that I needed a family of my own to be happy.

I was also excited to see how I'd handle the occasion myself. There had never been a time before when I was alone with my nieces and nephew and so far from my mom or sisters that I couldn't get instant help from them if I needed it. The next wind blew alongside a distant train whistle. It was definitely too late to cancel now. The ground swelled with vibrations as if it were struck by an invisible wave. Before I knew it, the tiny train could be seen on the horizon, growing in my eyes by the second until it was inches from the valley platform.

Tommy and the twins saw me from the window and started waving even as they got up to exit. It struck me how much Tommy looked like his father, with the palest skin in the family and a smattering of freckles and even a light pair of eyes. The greatest resemblance came from his almond-shaped face and his ears which stuck out a bit more than average under his hair, thick and curly like mine, shaved down on the sides to keep him cooler. Tommy was very protective of his sisters, and wouldn't let the conductor come in between them. He rarely said anything. I often wondered if he was a thoughtful child or just a quiet one.

The girls became anxious when separated from each other. They hopped off the train hand-in-hand, with matching Elsa and Ana backpacks. They wore the exact same denim shorts with a cute little dinosaur on the front pocket and different colored t-shirts that matched their sneakers. The trick to telling them apart was that Kayla was the one who typically answered questions, while Beth was typically the one asking them. Beth also had a little beauty mark under her left eye.

When they were all off the train, they jumped me before the doors could even shut. I thanked the conductor and gave them all bear hugs and sloppy kisses, which made them complain about how itchy my beard was. I brought them back to the farm. A bunch of suburban kids, they took note of every little difference from their home, but not in a complaining way.

"Look, Uncle, no sidewalk!"

"Uncle, why do your neighbors live so far?"

"Clarky? Do you live in a forest?"

"Uncle, your house is little, like me!"

I didn't have a lot of rules for them. They could play anywhere on the farm so long as they stayed away from the crops and came home when I called them. "There's a lady you'll meet later, too. She'll be here to watch out for you when I have to work."

"Is she nice?"

"Very nice."

Kayla twisted the bottom of her shirt between her hands, and whispered, as if to her navel, "I like nice..."

"Ms. Penny takes care of other kids during the year, so I think you'll have a lot of fun with her." The kids waited for more instruction. I realized that they had probably never been unsupervised by an adult. "You can go ahead and play while I wait for her. I'll put your stuff away."

Just south of my farmhouse was less a pond and more an enormous puddle, about three feet of clear water over six inches of silt. By the time I put their belongings on the porch and turned around, they were all in their underwear, horsing around in the water and slinging mud. I couldn't tell you what came over in me in the next moment. Something in me decided that it had been too long since I had been carefree. So I ditched my socks, shoes, and shirt by the door and jumped in in my work pants. The kids screamed with joy as I threw myself, gut-first, into the puddle.

I "wrestled" with my nephew, letting him win over and over again. Beth and Kayla wanted me to throw them up in the air, but because the water was so shallow, I was able to delight them instead with the tried-and-true game they knew as Monster. It was a guaranteed hit with kids through kindergarten. The adult pretended to be some kind of (not too) scary monster, with arms raised and fingers flexed as if they ended with great claws, the face grinning and gritting the teeth as giggling, squealing children are chased around with ferocious yowls.

We were all so busy hollering and splashing around that I never heard Penny walk up. She bust out laughing at the sight of us and our antics. It was a great thing to witness. Some of her hair fell out of her bun while she clutched herself, threw her head back and laughed. My nephew bounced in place. "Is that Ms. Penny?" He asked me.

"Yeah." I grinned at her. "You wanna try and get her in here, too?"

Penny shook her head and retreated a step, still smirking. "No, no, I didn't bring a swimsuit."

"None of us are here in swimsuits! Come on, it'll be fun."

Penny looked at us all in turn with another giggle, my nephew in his Hulk briefs, the girls in their Doc McStuffins and Paw Patrol undies, and me in my soaked Levis. She rolled her eyes with a smile, taking her yellow blouse off over her head and kicking her skirt off from her ankles, leaving her with a nude-pink camisole and plain white bottoms. She surprised me, cannon-balling in right in front of me, sending water and silt right up my nose. I fell over laughing. We all tousled around until the kids were tired.

"Are you guys too big for naps now?" I asked. Tommy seemed a little offended.

"Uncle, I'm _six_."

"You're right, Tom," I played along. "I don't know what I was thinking. Go ahead and wash up while we help the girls. Your towel and clothes are right up on the porch in your bag."

The girls were good sports while we rinsed them off, and Penny was the champion of tangled hair. No tears: a legendary feat. We each toweled one off. I was so preoccupied, for some reason, with trying to cover their little rear ends. But being kids and having no shame, they streaked off first chance they got, because it was too cumbersome to run for their clothes with a towel on. They each picked up their bags and scurried inside, suddenly full of modesty while getting dressed.

I looked at Penny and felt a rush of affection, seeing her there, hair askew, face red with laughter, eyes bright with Joy. I felt the same urge to kiss her that I felt at Mayor Lewis's house, but again I held back. We were both half-dressed; I didn't want her to feel predated upon. Penny smirked at me in a way I would have expected more from Abigail. "Wow, you're _really_ hairy!"

I couldn't help but laugh. I was a little embarrassed, but in a pleasant way, as I almost constantly was with Penny. My arms and chest were covered with black hair. "Yeah. I don't even know which side to blame it on," I shrugged. "My mother's family is Palestinian. My father's family is Sicilian. Both sides are hairy."

"That's all well and good, but turn around!"

Confused, I did a demonstrative spin, and spun back. "Well?"

"Body hair is one thing; back hair is another."

"So do I pass your test?"

"Yes, you pass." She laughed, trying unsuccessfully to regain order of her hair. She looked away and said almost to herself, "Besides, I think chest hair is very manly."

If I had spoken at that moment, my voice probably would have cracked like it did when I was a teenager, so I tried my best to stay quiet. But I was bursting with happiness to hear she approved. I knew a lot of women were put off by hairiness, and I was afraid that Penny would be, too. I knew that I had more of a "dad bod" than a movie star physique, what with my little, ever-shrinking belly, rebellious beard, cartoonish size, and Hobbit feet. But if Penny could accept me as I was then, I knew she could accept me for who I was.

"Penny," I murmured. She turned to me, her skirt and blouse folded in her arms. "Would you be my date at the Dance of the Moonlight Jellies?"

She hugged her clothes, swaying from side to side. "Yes," she whispered fervently. "I'd love to."

When the kids were done getting dressed, I offered the Penny the privacy of the farmhouse to wash up. Tommy whined about being hungry. It gave me an idea. I gave each of the kids a job to do, like gathering sticks or stones or dead weeds, while I dug a small pit in a clearing. When everything was gathered, I helped them put it all together as a proper campfire. I had to recall my boy scout years to get it started, which admittedly took some patience, but when the flint and steel finally gave me a spark, it caught nicely, and the kids cheered.

The sun was beginning to set. Penny came out refreshed and prepared. It seemed she had thought to look out the window before emerging, because she appeared with some fire-friendly ingredients and tin foil. We wrapped a bunch of root veggies in the foil and threw them right on the coals, and speared a couple of sausages for the kids to try and roast. I ran inside to get plates and utensils and drinking glasses. On my way out again, I stopped on the porch and appreciated the view. Watching this new, exciting Penny with the children I loved filled me with inspiration. I was glimpsing true happiness, and it was nearer than I ever would have thought.


	6. Chapter 5

The kids stayed for almost two weeks. They were great sports, and my confidence in myself as a caretaker improved. Yes, there were nightmares, bedwetting, bickering, and scraped elbows and knees, but we dealt with each problem as it came, and we got through it all just fine. The kids seemed to really enjoy being independent; there were whole days where I didn't see them except to feed them or put them to bed. Penny introduced them to Jas and Vincent, taking them to the playground on Saturdays and to the beach when they tired of the farm. She brought cards, board games, and crafts when it rained. Mayor Lewis took the girls out on wagon rides, and Tommy learned to fish.

I knew there were going to be tears when it was time to go home. But nothing could have prepared me for the magnitude or number of tears. Maybe some small portion of them came from anticipation of missing their Uncle Clark, but I think many more came from missing the freedom they had known in Stardew Valley, the end of beloved, carefree summer, the impending misery of school, and even saying goodbye to Ms. Penny. No amount of hugs and kisses could console them. I called their mother when they boarded the train home so she would know to expect them, and in what state. Dana called me back when they arrived and assured me that they had recovered after a nap on the train.

Suddenly, I was alone again with my dad's infernal watch. I could hear it ticking from across the room. It haunted me until I stopped it. The final days of summer passed without much incident, that is, except for the Dance of the Moonlight Jellies. It was as if everything that could go wrong was determined to do so. I woke up with a throbbing headache and a murder of crows beset upon my most valuable crops. Once again I was grateful to have no close neighbors, as I exploded from my farmhouse in nothing but boxers to chase the pests off with a broom.

The case of the unlabeled food dish near the northern entrance to the farm remained unsolved until noon that day. I had periodically emptied table scraps into it, which always disappeared overnight. While turning my last summer crops into the soil, I heard a familiar noise emanating from the food dish, a kind of soft thump-thump-thump. I turned slowly. In the shadows of a nearby pine tree, I could just make out the outline of a large dog. Without knowing if it was friendly or feral, I was afraid to approach it, and gave a low whistle from several yards away. It's ears perked up and the dog trotted right over to me. It sat before me expectantly, panting. On close inspection I could see that the dog was filthy, matted, and starving. It had a ratty collar on with a tag.

Slowly, very slowly, did I extend my hand, always fearing that it would snap. The dog made no such motion. It waited patiently as I read the tag: Duke. Clearly somebody's pet. Nobody in the valley ever mentioned a dog except for Alex, and this dog looked nothing like Dusty, with uncropped ears and tail. It was almost certainly dumped by a previous owner. I swallowed my fear and pronounced its name softly, in a happy tone. "Duke!" I exclaimed. The dog appeared to grin, it's rear end wiggling with excitement. "Alright, well, if that's your name and you like it, I won't fix what ain't broke."

There were no vets in town. The best thing I could do was call Mayor Lewis and ask him to drive us out to Zuzu City in his pickup. But being a holiday, he was all over the place, and it took much longer than usual to reach him. Eventually, he agreed, and by mid-afternoon we had found a vet clinic that would take our surprise appointment. Duke had no microchip, so we were unable to trace a previous owner, but the vet did confirm that he was neutered. Diagnosed with mange and ticks at first sight, I comforted him while the techs shaved him and applied his first dose of a topical medication. Mayor Lewis stood with his back glued against the wall. He insisted that he was alright, but I caught him periodically dabbing his forehead with a tissue from the corner of my eye.

I paid for Duke's vaccinations, meds, and microchip, which all-in-all was much more expensive than I had prepared myself for. Mayor Lewis was patient despite being obviously uncomfortable, and even obliged me with a stop at a pet supply store before turning home. I recycled Duke's tag, but he still needed a fresh collar and leash, dog food, a bed, and a toy or two. We didn't return to Stardew Valley until the sun was about to set. Duke bound from the bed of the truck, as naked as I was born, tongue lolling about for sheer joy, and unintentionally drove Mayor Lewis to break a sprinting record back to his stoop.

By the time I had brought Duke back to the farm and fed him dinner, it as dark, and I had forgotten to get something important. Somehow, I convinced Pierre to let me into his shop and buy what I needed. Maybe it was because I looked so flustered that he took pity on me. He had this knowing smile on as he handed me my purchase, and offered me good luck. I thanked him and left immediately for the festival at the beach.

The beach was undecorated except for the occasional lantern on the ground. I breathed in the sea breeze deeply, tasting salt at the back of my throat. People were gathered in pairs or small clusters. I scanned for Penny along the shore but couldn't find her, at least until I had made my way until the end of the dock. She was absolutely stunning as she waited by the sea. She was wearing this blue-green dress that kissed her ankles. From the other end of the dock, I could see someone else approaching her, a man. She stirred very little when he spoke to her. I drew closer, calling her name. Her hair fanned as she turned to me, grinning. Around her neck was a simple locket in gold. "You look lovely, Penny."

"Can you excuse us for a second? We're kind of in the middle of something." I had already forgotten about the man who had approached her, standing mere feet from me now. It was Sam.

Penny looked at him once and said, gaze lowered, "No, Sam, it's okay."

"But you didn't let me finish." His tone was pleading. He looked at Penny with increasing anxiety.

"Sam," She said gently. "The answer is no."

Sam looked at me, his gaze hardening. "I bet I already know why you're here."

I glanced between him and Penny, one arm behind my back, another arm around Penny's shoulder. "I'm her date."

Sam looked away from us, his angry glare transposed upon the sea. "I figured as much way back at the Saloon."

"Figured what?"

"That you'd take Penny away from me." His voice was quiet but hard, infused with bitterness. I could see that his knuckles were white where they hung at his sides.

"I never meant to interfere," I began, looking between him and Penny. She shook her head.

"He's not taking me from you, Sam. We were never together."

"But I thought- I thought you felt the same way."

I avoided looking at Sam. Penny fiddled with the bottom seam of my shirt absently and made no reply. I think we were both embarrassed for him.

After a long, uncomfortable silence, Sam declared, "Clearly, I was wrong." His voice was strained. Even his footsteps sounded sharp as he walked away.

Penny didn't look up right away. It made my stomach turn. "Did you have a relationship with Sam?" I asked her quietly, trying to get her to look me in the eye.

"When we were little kids in grade school, we were very close. We used to hold hands and play together. But then we all moved into the middle school, and he became friends with Sebastian, and suddenly it wasn't cool to play with girls." Her eyes flitted to mine and away again. "He's liked me for a while. I knew that. But no, we didn't have a relationship."

I lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. I could see that she held no doubt in herself about what she said, and I felt satisfied that she was telling the truth. "In that case, Penny, I want to ask you something." Her eyes widened. I gathered my courage and wrapped my arm around her waist, and presented her with a bouquet. "I love you, and I want to be your partner, if you'll have me."

Penny's eyes filled with tears. I watched and waited, unsure of their reason or what I should do. "I want to accept," she told me, her voice breaking, "but there's something I need you to know first."

I nodded expectantly.

"The district opened a regional school. Jas and Vincent don't need me anymore," she said breathlessly, a fact which could have made her cry on its own. "So I've had to seek work elsewhere, as a nanny for a well-to-do family in the city."

"No," I whispered, although I wanted to yell. "Please, don't go."

"I have to." Tears fell freely from her lovely, luminous eyes. "The pay is better than I ever would have imagined. Working for the Freemans, I could support my mom. In a couple years, I could fix up her home, maybe even buy her a new one." She was sniffling and wrenching her hands.

"Please, Penny, don't cry." I couldn't take it. I offered her a hankie from my pocket and held her close, letting the bouquet dangling from my hand behind her back. "You're so strong, Penny. I know you're only trying to do what's right."

"I'm so sorry," she whimpered into my shoulder. It broke my heart.

"Don't ever be sorry for something like this. Of course I understand." For several minutes we stood there, swaying slightly, until her breathing returned to normal. She looked up at me with a twinkle of hope.

"Would you still have me as a long-distance partner?"

I thought about it as I pressed my forehead against hers. "Only on the condition that we know when it'll stop being long-distance."

Our noses touched. Her breath smelled like the fruit punch she often made for the kids. "I'll be gone for six weeks at a time, and then I'll be home for two."

"And when will that end?"

"When they decide that they don't need me anymore."

I sighed. "I don't like it. But I love you, and I want to be with you, whatever that takes."

Without another word, I felt her lips brush mine. They were as soft as I had dreamed they'd be. They were salty-sweet from her tears and fruit punch. My head went light and I saw sparks behind my eyelids. If she never pulled back, we might have been frozen that way forever. "I love you, Clark," She whispered. I wanted to cry for joy. Instead, I handed her the bouquet, a little battered though it now was.

We found a secluded spot together at the edge of the dock and watched the rest of the villagers from afar. Mayor Lewis set off the little boat. Within minutes, as if beckoned, a small flock of glowing jellies were visible just below the surface. All the spectators fell silent. The jellies were just breathtaking, coming in pearlescent shades of blue, purple, and white, hovering like little spirits visiting from another world. Together they stood like a candlelit vigil, illuminating the dark waters of the valley for as far as the eye could see.

"Look," somehow could be heard saying. "Two night skies."

Penny let her head rest on my shoulder, my arm around her as we dangled our feet from the edge of the dock. "It's so unfair," she murmured. "I've lived here my whole life, and I only get to meet you before I have to leave."

"Don't look at it that way. I could have never met you at all."

"That would be awful," Penny agreed. She picked her head up as a thought struck her. "You're right, though. You came to the valley by choice. And I don't think you ever told me why."

I looked at my hand in my lap, now thick with calluses. "People in Stardew Valley don't have a lot, but they're largely very happy, and generous, and good." I stopped to think. "Most people where I came from made a lot more money, but they were empty inside."

"But how? Didn't they have families?"

"They did, but they never spent time together. They were always working. So they'd get lonely, and try to fill the space with the internet and lots and lots of alcohol, but it never worked, and they were still lonely."

Penny nodded somberly. "But what about your family? It seems like you're all really close."

I shrugged. "Oh, I love my sisters and mom and nieces and nephews more than I could tell you. But we still never spent any time together before I moved here. The only reason we saw each other was because we lived together. And then, the instant I moved out, I hardly ever saw any of them at all." Penny looked a little uncomfortable, so I thought I'd stop. But she encouraged me onward with a gesture of her hand. "I took a job that I hated and worked there for seven years. It was a terrible cycle. I was always either working or trying to forget about work. I drank a lot in the beginning, but later on, I ate my loneliness. I gained a lot of weight, probably fifty pounds."

"Where did you work?"

"Joja."

" _Oh_."

"Yeah."

Penny touched my Hobbit's foot with her ladies' foot, which made me smile. "So it's true then, you have lost a lot of weight since you moved here."

"Oh, you noticed?" I tried to sound casual. Secretly, I was very happy. "I'm about halfway back to where I started. I went to see Harvey for my physical the other day, and that's where I learned that I've lost about twenty-five pounds."

"That's really significant, probably a pound a week."

"Yeah." We caught each other's gaze, and lingered there for a while. "I haven't needed to do any of those things now that I'm not so lonely anymore."

We stayed out late. Neither of us wanted the perfect night to end, or think about how our lives would change in the times ahead.


	7. Chapter 6

The change of seasons was profound, from a balmy summer to a cool autumn. Mayor Lewis had, at one point, explained to me that the valley had a unique microclimate due to its position at a crosswinds between the mountains and the sea. The fall planting was significantly easier than the season before, less because of the weather and more because I was able to leave my sunflowers, corn, and wheat exactly where it stood. And almost everything was a repeat crop in fall, from the yams to the eggplants to the cranberries, so I knew I wouldn't be doing much more planting for the rest of the year.

Penny had to leave for the Freemans' the day after her birthday. She gave me an address to send letters to, insisting that she preferred them over phone calls, although I did eventually convince her to exchange phone numbers with me in case of emergency. I worried about her accommodations and whether they'd be appropriate. On later consideration, I realized that a live-in nanny with a studio in the attic of the Freemans' home would most likely have much nicer living arrangements than Penny did at her mother's trailer. But Penny had never lived anywhere else. I worried that her kindness would be mistaken for naïveté, and that she would be taken advantage of.

But Penny would not hear of worrying. She asked me to write her a letter every week, and promised that she would always return them with a little more than I had written. I gave her my last summer melon to take with her. Someday, when she got homesick, I figured she would enjoy a sweet reminder of the valley. She reacted like I had given her a diamond ring. I really didn't want to let her go. But then the train came, as it had so many times before, to snatch up another loved one, and power on.

I knew that I wouldn't see her again until mid-October. To avoid feeling sorry for myself, I marked her return on the calendar, and made myself a promise that I would be so productive that I wouldn't spend a waking hour on Penny unless I was writing her a letter. When she returned, I daydreamed, I would be so much more successful than I had been when she left that she would stumble over herself in amazement.

It didn't take long to hatch a plan. I would focus on aggressively raising crops, and use as much revenue as possible to invest in new ways to make money. Autumn was nature's most generous incarnation. After the first week of the new season, I was harvesting something almost every day, which allowed for a new addition every few days and required minimal seed money. First I filled my small barn with cows, and then I commissioned Robin to expand my home and build me a smokehouse. Suddenly, I had a kitchen!

That allowed me to call on Leah one gray, rainy day in early September, to help me break in the kitchen. There was a lot of food to be preserved, and my starving artist friend was will to help me provided she got a small cut of the finished product. On this particular day, our schedules were asymmetrical, but serendipitous. Leah only woke up around mid-morning, which gave me time to do my morning chores and get things ready for her.

Leah didn't knock. One minute I was setting up the coffee, the next thing I knew, I heard my door swing open and Leah drop her boots on the heavy mat by the door. It was a necessity for tradespeople like ourselves, as her boots tended to be covered in splinters, and mine tended to carry dirt, debris, and manure it their treads. Not the kind of things you wanted to trail all over your home.

"Can I have coffee too?"

"No," I grunted. Then I turned around with two hot mugs of coffee and watched her face light up.

"You got me." She wrapped both hands around her mug and took a sip.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Leah seemed different. She was pale by complexion, but she normally had this rosy warmth to her face and a spring to her step. Even her hair seemed off somehow. It was braided, but it was so loose, so messy, and not in the fashionable way that Leah effortlessly carried off. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," she insisted. "Hey, why don't we get some music started? It'll be more fun to work with music."

We both knew it was a diversion, but if she needed one, that was okay with me. "You know where my radio is. Put on whatever you like."

She seized my little ham radio and put on some country song with an energetic beat. "Alright, what can I do?"

"It's incredible the difference coffee makes," I said to myself, watching her do her embarrassing little dance to the music. "There are a couple jobs, and you can do whichever you like. We need to make a ton of pickles and preserves, and later I need to smoke some meats."

"I need to do the job where there's no cooking."

"Right; you're a water-burner." I gave my beard a thoughtful stroke. It really needed a trim. "You ought to do the pickles. All you have to do is cut."

"Cool!"

Leah got free reign of the table. I gave her the biggest cutting board I had, along with a chef's knife and a paring knife, a small army of canning jars standing at attention, and a barrel full of veggies sitting at her feet. Duke sniffed at its contents. He knew Leah was powerless against his sad puppy-dog eyes. All he had to do was lie by her chair and wait.

Duke's tail thumped happily as I filled a pot with water, and I knew that he was receiving some small slice of sweet potato with glee. I set the pot on the back burner and tossed in equally small quantities of coriander, dill, garlic, and black pepper, along with a heaping handful of kosher salt. What would soon be the brine could be neglected until Leah finished her task. I peeked over my shoulder. Leah had sliced one turnip, kept fresh in said barrel of rice in a cool, dark closet. Her tongue stuck out as she worked. She would be busy for a while.

My first year of crops was not fruit-intensive, but bushes of the valley had very recently exploded with blackberries, gobs and gobs more than could be eaten fresh; that's why I needed to make jam. "Don't you mean jelly?" Leah asked, after several minutes of quiet work.

"No."

"What's the difference, anyway?"

"Jelly is made from fruit juice. Jam is made from whole fruit." I turned on the front burner with a flick of the wrist, the gas clicking in spurts before the pilot light caught a spark. What I set down on that burner was large enough to bathe a toddler in. Leah and I had conferred the title of The Great Pot upon it, in a fit of silliness, or maybe drunkenness, but we could not remember which. Beside my new kitchen stove was another barrel, this one full of blackberries. I took several scoops and dumped them into The Great Pot with water and lemon and sugar. Lots of sugar.

"You're so serious when Penny's not around," Leah complained. "I wish I could have Summer Clark back."

"I wish you could, too." My voice was bitter and cold, not how it sounded in my heart. Inside, I was aching, but I could tell that Leah was not herself, and I couldn't help but worry about her.

Leah stopped cutting. "You don't to be so sensitive about it. You know I don't mean it."

"I don't mean to be sensitive," I said, more defensively than I would have liked. "What's gotten into you, Leah?"

"I'm sorry." Her voice got quiet. My stomach turned in a really bad way. I looked over my shoulder, trying to garner more clues of what could be going on.

"Leah," I said gently. "What's going on?"

She looked like she wanted to cry. I had known her long enough to know that she didn't like to be fussed over. It was hard for me to stay planted, stirring the fruit as it cooked down. "Some things are just going on with Elliott and me. We might stop seeing each other."

"I had no idea," I said, the heady smell of the fruit wafting up. "What kind of things?"

Leah stalled, taking all the accumulated slices and stuffing them into a few jars. "Oh, just… I don't know how to tell you this, Clark."

The fruit bubbled in the pot. When I looked at her this time I couldn't hide my concern. "Go ahead. I'm listening."

"I fucked up," she confessed. "I went back to the city at the end of the summer to visit some old friends and ran into my ex at a party. We started talking, and we hit it off all over again. I hooked up with him at his apartment."

I glanced over at a basin filled with more canning jars. I picked up the electric kettle and poured an inch or two of steaming water into the basin to warm up the jars. "So Elliott's upset?"

"He doesn't even want to see me."

"I mean, if you guys were a couple, that would make sense. But I thought you guys were really casual."

"Well," Leah sighed with exasperation, petting Duke's shaved head for comfort. "We never really defined what we were. We liked the idea of not having a label. It felt freer."

"That's what I don't get, then. If you never set any rules, how do you know when you break the rules?"

"Clark, I get that you want to defend me and my actions, but you don't have to."

"I'm not trying to, though," I told her with a glance over my shoulder. "I thought casual meant non-monogamous. Seems like you did, too. I'm sorry that his feelings are hurt, but I think it's kind of unfair of him to cast you away without defining the boundaries beforehand."

"Maybe you're right. But he still won't hear it from me. He won't answer my calls. He doesn't even answer the door."

"That's just petty," I snorted. Anger boiled in my stomach. If he would treat Leah like this, I thought to myself, he didn't deserve her. I hated to see a friend so unhappy. "Do you want me to talk to him?"

"No." I glanced darkly over my shoulder, and she glared right back. "Don't give me that look. You won't change my mind."

I pouted into the starry-night goo of fruit and seeds.

Leah got up and stood beside me to put a hand on my shoulder. "Look, I really appreciate what you're trying to do for me. But at the end of the day, it's just something we have to work out amongst ourselves."

"I know," I nodded, still sulking a little. The jam was about ready to transfer into jars. I reached for the wide-mouthed funnel and poured out the thick, fragrant fruit-sludge into half-pint containers. Then it was time to add more fruit and start again. "The offer stands if you ever need my help."

"Thanks, Clark." She gave me a tired smile. I knew at that moment that we were family.

"You got it."

"By the way, that's a really nice watch you got on the table. You ought to wear it sometime."

"Oh," I said stiffly. "I'm trying to return it, actually. Do you want it, for patching things up with Elliott, I mean?"

"He doesn't really wear watches. He loves not knowing what time it is and just letting things happen naturally."

"That's fine, I suppose."

Leah tolerated my quiet spells well. I didn't speak much for the rest of our time together, which was until late afternoon, when she left for the saloon. When I stopped speaking, it wasn't out of anger with Leah or a desire to isolate her or something twisted like that. I used to have a lot of problems at work and at school due to that habit. People always misconstrued the meaning, typically assuming that my silence was directed at them or caused by them. But it was almost never about them. I got quiet because I got lost in thought. It's surprising how much of life you can get through without really being there for it.

When she finally left with a box packed full of jam and pickles, I was left alone with my dad's watch. The fire crackled from my bedroom. I had covered it was a fine mesh grate to prevent a stray spark from leaping out and ruining all my hard work. But hearing it, smelling the thick pine smoke that wafted through the chimney, reminded me that if I really wanted to destroy Dad's watch, I could. I picked it up and glared into the watch face. I hated it so much. I hated it because my Dad thought it so valuable it could make up for my entire childhood. My fist closed around it and squeezed until my knuckles turned white and the muscles in my wrist cramped. But it was high quality, and nothing snapped or stretched.

That night, I wrote to Penny at my kitchen table. I told her for the first time about how my Dad left us, and about the watch, the way I felt about it, the way I couldn't bring myself to wear it or destroy it. My house was dark except for the kitchen light and the red embers in the fireplace. I told her about how I'd be thinking about her when I laid down to sleep that night, about how I thought about her kiss almost every day since she'd left. I wanted to tell her about how lonely I was without her. Instead, I told her that Duke missed her subdued way of stroking his ears, and that he was recovering well and gaining weight. I signed the letter with love and stuffed it halfway into the mailbox for pick-up early tomorrow morning.

For the next several days, almost every minute that I wasn't harvesting, I was trying to preserve more food. I was well aware of the threat posed by a farmer's first winter. There was almost twice as much fodder as I required in the three silos Robin had built, and the animals needed a heater in each building, and a mechanism added to their water dishes to prevent them from freezing in the coldest months. But I had been preparing the animals' food store all year. I had only just begun preparing my own. I knew that I could always go into town to buy flour, sugar, and similar staples, but if I needed anything more nutritious than that, I had to find it, grow it, or make it myself.

So I started spending a lot of time in the smokehouse, curing, smoking, and drying fish and game. I had tried to convince Marnie to sell me a chicken for eating, but she wouldn't have it. Instead, I trapped rabbits and occasionally shot deer and turkey. This required notifying Robin and Demetrius when I'd be hunting on the mountain for their family's safety, which to my surprise, lead to Demetrius volunteering his expertise to assist me. His biology background allowed him to identify disease and parasites on fresh carcasses before I went through the trouble of bringing them home and cleaning them. I offered to send him home with a share as usual, but he declined.

Penny's letter came later that week as I was plucking a turkey. I couldn't bear the thought of dirtying her letter, and I had to work quickly to get the bird strung up as quickly as possible to preserve the freshness of the meat. I never worked so quickly in my life. Once the twenty-pounder was all strung up, I fed a cord of fresh maple wood into the smoker, and hurried out of the smokehouse wiping my hands on the old apron I had gotten from Clint. I tore open Penny's letter and read it right on my stoop.

" _Dear Clark,_

 _I don't think I ever told you this, but my father left us, too. I've felt the way that you do now, full of resentment and maybe even hatred for the way he's made us feel. But I won't ever have the opportunity to make things right with my father. He died shortly before his fiftieth birthday of a massive heart attack. I really regret never making things right with him, and I'm still angry at myself and at him for never reaching out to the other. I know this might seem impossibly optimistic, Clark, but I think you're lucky that you're dad wants to fix things while he's still around to do so."_

Her first paragraph upset me. I was not expecting her to be so direct; Penny was so demure in person. But after a moment, I realized the the foremost reason I was upset was because she was right. I didn't want to do the hard thing, the mature thing- forgiving my dad for what he had already done for the sake of having some sort of relationship with him as an adult. Her letter continued,

" _Please know that I'm well and that the Freemans are a lovely family. They have three daughters from ages four to nine. Mr. and Mrs. Freeman are frequently gone, as they're both high-profile executives at international companies, and their jobs require lots of traveling. My job is to care for the children's daily needs, such as bathing and feeding, and to escort them to school, lessons, and activities. You would not believe the flat I've been given to call home! They own a penthouse in a luxurious apartment building, which stands in a lovely part of the city, near a grand public park. The penthouse has several stories, with one being designed just for hired help. My flat is larger than Mom's home, and I have my own dining room and kitchenette, a cozy bedroom, and a living room with a plush loveseat and a huge bookshelf!_

" _The oldest child in my charge is Ruth. She's very bright and independent, and accustomed to being the expert on her younger sisters in the absence of their parents. She sometimes resists my authority, but she's very well-spoken about it. She told me yesterday, 'Miss Penny, I do not like your rules!' However, if you reason with her, she will ponder your reasons and will typically do as you ask. She does not like to be dismissed without a good reason._

" _The middle child is Danny, née Danielle. She's seven years old and loves second grade, especially math. Her schoolmaster wants her to come in the uniform skirt, but Danny is a renowned monkey bars fanatic, and now an unintentional rebel who wears shorts under her skirt. Danny loves all things melon-flavored, too; she has great taste!_

" _And the youngest is Rose, sweet Rose. She barely makes a peep. Rose needs tenderness and attention. She needs someone to hold her hand as she walks into pre-K. She needs someone to tuck her in at night. When overwhelmed, she hides in my skirt, and when underwhelmed, she pats me to request affection. I don't think Rose knows who her parents are. She does not respond much when they call._

" _All in all, I'm very pleased with my assignment. I hope the farm is doing well, and that you're able to find peace in regards to your father. Please let me know how things turn out, and please check in on my mom from time to time! I don't send her money to pay the bills anymore, because she just goes and drinks with that money. Instead I pay her bills remotely, so that I know she'll have a home to return to and the lights will be on when she does so._

" _I love you, Clark, and I miss you dearly. Please write again soon._

 _– Penny"_


	8. Chapter 7

_Thank you so much for all the kind reviews! They really make my day._

* * *

The last time I saw my dad was from the second story window in Dana's room. The three of us kids sat on her bed as he turned his back on our mother, suitcase in hand, got in a taxi, and disappeared from our lives. Mom didn't want us to see and had sent us upstairs. I'll never forgot how small my mother looked, holding herself against the cold, watching the taxi pull away.

My father didn't look like the stereotypical Sicilian-American. A lot of people expected him to look like me, but like Betty he was fair-skinned with chestnut brown hair. In my memory, the memory of a first-grader, my Dad was so tall and broad-shouldered, with a booming, kind of brassy voice. He had a pronounced nose, a cleft chin, and heavy eyebrows for his complexion. I waited for him to arrive by bus, wondering how similar he would look, or if I'd even be able to recognize him at all.

I almost didn't. The man who stepped off the bus was almost a full foot shorter than me, with salt-and-pepper hair under a flat cap. It was the wide, bustling gait that betrayed his age and the expressive eyes fixated on me that gave him away. "Clark? Is that you?"

"Hi, Dad." I waved. We stood there, several feet apart, waiting for the other to do something. We both knew it wasn't really the time for a hug or even a handshake.

"It's so good to see you again, Son."

I thought of Penny and tried my best. "It's good to see you, too, Dad. Have you eaten yet?"

"Yeah, but you know I can always eat."

"Would you rather go for a pint?"

"I'd like nothing better." He seemed so relieved to have a civil conversation with me. It made me wonder what the rest of his life was like. We walked to the saloon in near-silence. He began a conversation halfway through, as the wind came through the lane and shook down a few dead leaves with a rattle. "So, you're a farmer now."

"Mmhm."

"Must be hard; sixteen-hour days, manual labor in all weather, no pension…"

"It is. But it's work I like doing."

We walked into the saloon, which was pretty empty in the middle of the afternoon. I wasn't sure if I wanted anyone to meet my father who didn't have to. Gus said hello and, in his merry voice, told us to sit wherever we pleased. I noticed that my dad was a little short of breath by the time we each took a barstool and got comfortable. I asked Gus for his favorite taste of the valley for someone visiting, and he promised to surprise me. He came back with two IPAs in a frosty glass.

"To your health," we toasted each other. Another long, pregnant pause.

"Dad," I said, my bass voice foreign to my ears as the words came out of me, the words I've been wondering since I was six years old, "I need to know. Why did you leave us?"

My dad had raised the glass halfway to his lips. He immediately put it back. He leaned forward with his hands on his knees as he spoke to me. "I made a stupid mistake, one that I regret every single day."

I averted my eyes. "Didn't you cheat on Mom?"

"It came close to that," he confessed. "I had been working late and was propositioned by a coworker that I had an interest in. Your mother and I had been arguing- this was when your Grandpa was just starting to decline. She wanted him to move in with us, and I was set against it."

"Did you dislike Grandpa?"

"No, not at all!" Dad insisted, fervently waving his hands with their palms towards me. "Your Grandpa was great to me, better than my own father. But your Grandpa had a lot of needs. Your mother and I were working, you kids were in school, and your Grandpa needed around-the-clock skilled nursing care. There was just no way we could do that."

I lost myself momentarily in my drink, taking in the condensation on my palm, the curvy glass, the bitter scent of hops. I thought back to my last time staying at Grandpa's farm before he passed. He was bed-bound. I remembered being snuggled up in bed with him. He knew I had to practice reading for Kindergarten, and asked me to read him _Goodnight Moon_.

My dad watched me patiently. I felt transparent in front of him. He continued, "I never should have been unfaithful to your mother. I know I was absolutely wrong. But those are the conditions in which I strayed."

"But if that's the case, why did it take you almost twenty years to contact me?"

My dad swallowed, and laughed dryly. "Because your father kept on making mistakes after that."

I cocked my head. He left his drink on the bar to sweat.

"When I strayed, I should have told your mother right away. But I was ashamed and kept it a secret for almost six weeks. By the time I finally told her, your mother's trust was just shattered. She couldn't look at me anymore. It's like I used to say when you were kids,"

"Trust is gained in drops and lost in buckets," I recited.

"Exactly! Your remember," He grinned. "I had lost your mother's trust. We agreed that we should separate for a little while. Neither of our families really believed in divorce, and all we really wanted was a little time apart to think things over. At first, it was kinda nice, being a bit of a bachelor again, going out and drinking with the guys from work. But at the end of the day, the guys went back to their wives and their kids. Soon I was going to the pub by myself. Then I was drinking alone in my apartment."

I saw myself in my dad's eyes as they misted.

"I woke up hungover one day and the first thing I did when I woke up was get myself a beer. That's when I first realized that I had a problem."

I looked over to dad's IPA. "Do you want me to order something else for you?"

My dad chuckled the way he used to when he'd tousle my hair or fix my clip-on tie for church. "You know, Son, I wasn't about to turn away anything you offered me."

I smiled and hailed Gus. "What else would you like?"

"I'd kill for a Roy Rogers," my dad whispered, leaning against the bar. He made some kind of facial gesture at Gus that I couldn't see from the side, but Gus immediately nodded with understanding.

"No problem, Sir. Anything else for you, Clark?"

"Nah, Gus. Thank you."

"You're on good terms with the bartender," my dad noticed. "You definitely pay your tab."

I nodded.

"You probably don't drink like your old man did."

"No, Dad."

He reached out and clasped my shoulder with a twinkle in his eye. "Clark, it took me such a long damn time to get dry, but I did it. I'm sorry that I missed out on your childhood, on your sisters' childhood, that I failed your mother over and over again. But if I could go back in time and stop myself from making that first mistake, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

My lip quivered. Never in my life was I so grateful for the cover of my beard. "I missed you, Dad."

My dad's eye sparkled with a high gloss. "I missed you too, Son."

"Do you wanna start over?"

"I'd like nothing better."

"To us," I declared, clinking glasses with him. "To new beginnings."

We talked for a few hours. As much of a surprising success as the afternoon had been, we were both tired, and needed a chance to digest what we'd learned. We made plans to meet again soon, and I offered that he stay over at the farmhouse if he cared to. My dad smiled until you couldn't see his eyes anymore. When the bus pulled up for him, he shook my hand with both of his, thanking me again and again for a wonderful time.

I walked the short distance home from the bus stop with heavy legs. The sun was setting over the farm. Even though I had done almost no work that day, I was absolutely exhausted, and considered taking a nap before writing Penny. Duke ran to meet me at the gate. He got loving pats and ear scratches, panting heavily all the while, before following me inside. I had installed a doggy door, but he rarely stayed inside if I was out and the weather reasonably nice.

Indoors, I stoked the coals in the fireplace and threw on some fresh cured pine before replacing the grate. I threw myself onto my bed. Duke needed no invitation to join me. He hopped on, resting his jowls on my gut as soon as I got settled. The crackle of the fire, the smell of pine sap, and the soft warmth of my dog put me to sleep sooner than any sleep aid, prescribed or self-medicated.

 _Watching myself as if on television, I saw myself striding out of the bedroom, in work boots, jeans, and a real flannel shirt for working hard in the cold. Penny was setting the table with her back to the camera. "Good Morning," I told her with a peck on the cheek._

" _How'd you sleep?" She asked me, in her musical voice, her happiest voice. She sounded like a songbird._

" _Oh, like the dead. Never slept better in my life."_

" _Don't say that," she scolded me. "I don't even want to think about that."_

" _What do you mean?"_

" _Why not, 'like a stone', or 'out like a light'? I hate to think about when you're gone."_

" _Honey, I'm not going anywhere."_

" _You never know!" Penny was quickly frazzled. While she poured some coffee for us, I came around from behind and wrapped her in my arms. I nuzzled her head._

" _Honey, I promise, I'm not going anywhere."_

 _She sighed. "I know, I know. 'Think of the baby.'"_

 _I kissed her cheek. The camera shifted, and I saw that my hands rest on her bump. "Please? It's important."_

" _I know, Clark," she agreed. "Let me go, I need to get breakfast on the table."_

 _The smell of maple syrup, coffee, and bacon were in the air as Penny piled my plate high with beautiful buttermilk pancakes. The camera lingered on them. That was when I remembered that my sweet Penny wasn't a terribly good cook. The dream rapidly began to unravel…_

I woke with a start, craving breakfast foods. Duke had picked his head up to look at me, his ears perked as he watched me. "I'm okay, Duke," I told him with a pat. His thumping tail was muted by the duvet. I had never broken out in a sweat from a dream before, but I lay there with chills, clammy, confused, lonely and even a little aroused.

Wobbling as I stood, I glanced at the clock over the fireplace, and wondered how long dreams lasted in real life. It was almost midnight. I opened a window in the kitchen to get some fresh air and sat down at the table with a cup of tea. It seemed fitting that Duke should have something to work on, too, so I gave him a bully stick to gnaw on. I started the letter by telling Penny that I had followed her advice. I told her the truth, that the meeting with my dad had gone better than either of us ever would have expected, and that I wanted to introduce her when she returned home. But I was afraid to tell her about the dream and how it made me feel. In the end, I decided that it was best to be honest with her, and I told her everything, exactly as I remembered it.

For the next several days, the letter weighed on my mind a lot, as did my dad. The more I worried about Penny and her response, the more dreams I had like the first. It gave me a taste of the cycle, or I suppose, the spiral that lead my dad down the path of alcoholism. As soon as the dream ended, I was just as afraid of becoming a father so soon as I was of waking up and discovering that it was just a dream.

My greatest relief and distraction came from calls with family. They reminded me that I was already capable of being a good caretaker, as well as bringing me joy. Tom had given me a gift by proxy earlier that month by investing in a conference phone. He had witnessed the phone travel from Mom to Dana to Betty, since they were all in the same home now, and that frequently Dana's children wanted to talk to Uncle Clark, too. Surely there must have been an easier way to do things, Tom had reasoned. So he found one.

I don't think I've said much about Tom. He and Dana met and fell in love in high school. He started working with a contractor as soon as he was legally old enough to work, and started his own contracting business a few years ago. Tom's first boss, Marty, was like a mentor to him. He and Marty still meet up twice a month to hang out, whether that's for Sunday dinner or a night at the bowling alley. Tom was the kind of guy who had this invisible checklist in life that he was hell-bent on finishing, behind his straw-colored curls and thick glasses.

Tom's family never really understood that. His family was Jewish, and while they were pretty disappointed that he didn't pursue a little higher education, they were really upset when he married Dana. His mother had had a plan for him since he was little, a checklist of her own. And Tom refused to follow it. His family largely turned their backs on him when he left the faith, except his brother, Aaron. I respected the latter, from big brother to big brother. I resonated with the man.

The children started to make sense when you saw Tom and Dana side-by-side. Tom was very pale- if he had been born a girl, there would be no foundation for him. He had freckles that spanned his cheekbones, a subdued chin, and hazel eyes that caught the sun with ferocity even as the mouth stood silent. Dana was a light brown, like me, her hair as black as could be. Dana's eyelashes were long like falsies; all her friends in high school had been jealous of them. Her body had changed surprisingly little in having four children. She could always been found in a simple dress or a long shirt and leggings, her hair wild across her shoulders, with a massive bag slung against her hip, guaranteed to be carrying whatever your heart desired.

As the conference phone started up, there was some confusion.

"Clark? Clark? Can you hear us?"

"Uncle! Uncle!" Baby Jack called, mimicking the adults. "Uncle!"

"Hey!" I called back. "Can you guys hear me?"

Tom's voice was thin, but cut through the chaos without effort. "We hear you, Clark. Sounds like the satellite phone was a good choice for you out there."

"Absolutely necessary, yes!"

As each person came on, I visualized them to the best of my ability. They were beautiful in my memory like they had never been before. Tommy came on to tell me all about first grade, going on and on as kids his age do, and I couldn't help but think of the shaved-sides haircut he'd gotten that summer, and how useful it had been. I wondered which parent had espoused the idea. Kayla and Beth weren't easy to talk to on the phone. You almost had to speak with both. Because if you asked a question, Kayla would answer it, but Kayla almost never asked questions; that was Beth's job. They enjoyed Pre-K very much, they reported. Especially coloring. Least of all, nap-time.

Betty had gotten her degree in Physics in May, and was working this year while she decided if she wanted to continue her education. Mom, in the background, mentioned some guy named Mike. My ears stood at attention. "You seeing this guy, Betty?"

"Well- nothing's official, Clarky."

I burned. How dare this guy, I thought to myself. Nobody dates my baby sister while I live at home, of course! "Is he good to you?"

"Every single day, Clarky, please, don't worry!"

Oh, I worried. Betty was such a good woman, and I needed to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was safe and respected. It was a selfish need, and one that should never interfere with her love life. But it persisted. "Well, I'd love to meet him if you guys ever get a chance to come out to the valley."

"Oh, we'd love to! How's the middle of October?"

"That'd be perfect. Then I could introduce you to Penny."

Betty was audibly pleased, but Mom was out of the loop, and she hated being out of the loop. "Wait! Who's Penny?"

"Um, someone I recently asked to be my girlfriend."

"My Clark has a _girlfriend_?"

I heard my Mom's voice smolder exactly as mine had when I learned about Mike. I had to bury a chuckle in my hand. Mom would probably mistake it for mocking her.

"Mom, he's twenty-six, what do you want him to do, live in your basement forever?" Dana chided.

Chaos. Jack could be heard breathing noisily next to the conference phone. A wet inhalation, and then suddenly, "UNCLE!"

"Whoa!" I jumped back from the phone, my ear still ringing. Dana apologized and I laughed it off. "By the way, I, uh, recently met up with Dad."

Silence.

Betty came forward first. "How… was he?"

"He was doing alright. He's dry now."

Mom could be heard chatting quietly in the background, most likely to Tom. The side conversations always seemed to be between those two. I think Tom was the most patient with her, less likely to dismiss her thoughts or challenge her feelings. Dana was notably silent. The kids had picked up on the discomfort and drifted away to do their own thing.

"Anyway, uh, it was just nice to seem him and catch up."

"That's really nice," Betty said, straining. "I'm really glad you did that."

I cleared my throat. "Thanks. Uh, did any of you guys want to come by this season? It's a good time."

The background buzz started to come back. "Mom definitely wants to be there," I heard Dana. "The real question is, how many people can you take at once?"

"How many people are willing to sleep in a sleeping bag?"

They laughed.

"You know I'm serious, right?"

"We know," Tom assured me, quietly. "You have a very deadpan way of delivering things."

"Yeah, I've been told that before."

"Just know that we're never laughing at you, Clark."

Dana piped up again, "And by the way, you really don't have to keep sending all these goodies. You must be way over your head in shipping fees!"

That was my cue to wrap up the conversation. "Nah, Dana. It's not so bad shipping by freight. But when it comes time to ship more perishable things, you might have to pick those up in person."

Turned away from the phone, Dana called the children, "Come say goodbye to Uncle Clark! Tommy, that includes you! C'mon!"

We all said our goodbyes and gave our love. They turned off the conference phone, presumably sitting on the coffee table in the dining room, if Jack was able to meet it at eye-level. I turned off my satellite phone. My family, like apparitions, disappeared from the farmhouse with a click.


	9. Chapter 8

Penny responded to my letter in the last week of September. The mail arrived as I was bottling fresh pale ale and beer straight from the kegs. I was annoyed with myself for not growing more hops that summer. I had stockpiled a chest full of hops, and I thought it would be enough to brew through the winter; I had accidentally planned based on the time it takes to ferment wine. Instead, fall had only just started, and I was already running out of hops and switching over to the wheat that still grew prodigiously in the fields. I snatched the letter from my mailbox and read it on my front steps in the sun.

" _Hi, Clark. I'm so sorry it took me this long to get back to you. To tell you the truth, I drafted several versions of this letter. Every time I read about your dream, I felt differently about it. At first, I was overjoyed, because as you know, I look forward to a family of my own very much. But then I was a little confused, because you mention that the food somehow reminded you that the it was definitely a dream. What did you mean by that? Do you not like pancakes or something? I don't think I can date a man who doesn't like pancakes (I'm kidding. Sort of)._

" _The more I thought about your dream, the more I couldn't help but notice a sexual nature to it, if I can be so direct. It disturbs me a little. Of course, it's natural at our age and in a romantic relationship that you might feel that way. But I worry that, if the sexual aspect of a relationship is fixated on, that the relationship won't be interesting to you after we have sex._

" _But above all, I'm proud. I know that this dream must have been hard to talk about, and I'm proud that I'm the kind of person you can tell such secrets to. You've always been honest with me, and that's something I really admire in a man. Please know that you can always tell me these things. Whatever I feel, I'll put it aside until I have a well-thought out response for you. I'll always tell you considerately, putting your feelings first, as I'd want you to do for me._

" _I was thrilled to learn of your meeting with your father. It was big of you to meet with him, as difficult as it was, and to be open to whatever he might tell you. But to be able to start over with him is phenomenal and well beyond my expectations. To answer your invitation, I would love to meet your father and any member of your family that would agree to meet me. Surely, if they are loved by you, Clark, they must be lovely people, indeed._

" _In my neck of the woods, poor little Rose came home with the flu last week, and it's been circulating around the house for the past few days. That's part of the reason why this letter was so delayed- lots of sick little girls! I'm starting to come down with it, too, I think, but the good news is that there's more than enough Pedialyte in this penthouse. I'll be just fine!_

" _How is my mom doing? She's not really someone I can call and ask directly. She answers in one or two words, and the whole conversation is very awkward and one-sided. Please look out for her if you're able. If you take on any expenses for her, please keep record and I'll repay you in full. I know that I had a difficult conversation with Gus before I left._

" _I miss you, Clark. It'd be so comforting to have you by my side! Give Duke some love for me!_

– _Penny"_

I finished the letter rather disappointed. Great, she was "proud" of me or whatever for sharing my feelings. But I couldn't help but feel ashamed. Did she really feel disturbed by my sexual attraction to her? To the desire to start a family with her? As usual, I couldn't bring myself to throw the letter away, no matter how much I felt like crumpling it up. I would leave it on the kitchen table until whenever I could deal with it.

Frustrated, I left the farm for a walk to clear my head. Duke saw me leave for the Eastern gate and resumed his watchful pose on the porch. I left with peace of mind knowing that my buddy would be on the lookout. My hands in the pockets of the brown leather jacket I'd had for as long as I could remember, I looked up at the lane of sycamore trees, their leaves yellowing by the day, their bark peeling away in curly sheets. The autumn breeze was to my mind what cool water is to scalded skin. It whistled faintly overhead, tangled in branches.

Soon I reached the fork where I could either head into town or into the mountains. I didn't particularly want to see the latter, but I did want to avoid people at all costs. I enjoyed living in an area where I really did not have to see anyone if I didn't want to. Maybe I wasn't cut out for the married life, I told myself. Maybe it was more worthwhile to be a lonely bachelor than to be confused and frustrated by a spouse and children that could never be fully escaped.

I climbed the weathered stairs beside Harvey's clinic to the clearing. I passed by a fountain, shut down for the coming frost, and the playground where Penny had brought my nieces and nephew and the local kids to burn through their spare energy. I stopped in front of the largest building in town, the abandoned Community Center. Its two front windows were perpetually darkened, like the eyes of a lame horse waiting for the mercy shot. Its clock stood frozen in time. Ivy creeped all over its face.

I had never been inside the Community Center, mostly because I was afraid it would fall down on top of me. But being in a strange mood, I decided to venture inside. Somehow, it was draftier indoors than it was windy outside. There were holes in the floor and in the ceiling. One misstep would probably land me in the crawlspace with a broken ankle. The floorboards were warped and rippled like waves, such that each step was at a different height, requiring one to walk very carefully. Vegetation snaked along the ground. Critters scampered out of sight.

Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a green apple. I didn't really think much of it at first. But then I realized how odd it was that anything should be fresh amidst all the decay. So I finally turned to inspect it further. That's when I realized that it had limbs. And eyes. I yelled for my life. But the strange little apple didn't jump away or make any threatening motion towards me. It touched its hands together, watching me, probably trying to figure out why the large human was yelling.

"Mr. Clark?" said a tiny voice. I assume it came from the apple, although it had no mouth.

"Yes, that's me." That's it, I thought. I've officially lost it. If Penny didn't want me before because of my oversharing, she definitely wouldn't want me once she learned I was nuts. "What's your name?"

"I'm a Junimo!" It told me with glee, raising both tiny limbs over its stem.

"What's a Junimo?" I crouched down to speak with it more on its level.

"We watch this place."

"We?"

More living apples came in and out of sight around us, coming in colors I've never bought or grown apples in my entire life. They peeped and squeaked as they jostled about. "We, the Junimo!"

"Is this like a horror movie? Where the spirits have taken over and the tell the skeptics to 'get out'?"

"No, no," the Junimo waved its stubby limb. "We merely borrowed this place. It was empty, and we needed a home, so we moved in."

"Oh, I see. Do you like it?"

The Junimo looked down, its hands together. "We're happy to have a home, of course…"

"But?"

"But the house is sad," it told me. "The house does not want to be empty. It wants to have people in it again."

I scratched my head, looking about the decrepit structure. It would bankrupt me to repair this place. It'd be easier- not to mention, cheaper- to tear it down and commission a new structure. "How do we do that?" I asked, half-expecting them to hand me a bill.

"We fix it. We, the Junimo, can fix it. But we need help."

"You want money?" I asked suspiciously.

"We'll need some money. But we also need offerings, small quantities of many things."

"Okay. Well, give me a list, and I'll try to fill it. Sound good?"

"We already did, Mr. Clark. Haven't you looked?"

"Well, no, I haven't, I've never been here before." I got up to inspect a gold tile on the ground before a shattered fish tank. It was a full foot square. There was a tree embossed onto it, and on each limb was a name, and towards the tips of the branches was a collection of little pictographs. I looked over my shoulder to ask the little apple- I mean, the Junimo- but it had disappeared. They had all disappeared. I ran out of the community center and didn't stop until I hit the fountain.

"That's it," I said aloud to myself. "You've been working too hard, Clark. You're seeing things. You need to rest and take care of yourself, and if this persists, you need to see Dr. Harvey before you lose your damn mind."

It was a terrible feeling, being so spooked and knowing that I couldn't tell anyone, or they would definitely think I was insane. I tried to keep my head down and avoid eye contact with the locals on my way home. I just couldn't trust myself to be normal with anyone at that moment. When I returned to the farm, I was disappointed when Duke didn't run up to greet me, but I assumed it was because he had caught something snacking on my crops. Instead, I looked up at the gate to find Leah scratching his belly on the porch.

"Who's a good puppy? You's a good puppy!" She said repeatedly. Duke couldn't get enough.

"Did you come for me or for my dog?"

Leah jumped. She hadn't heard me coming while making her ridiculous recitations. "In my defense, you weren't home, so Duke was the next best thing."

"Want something to eat?" Leah grinned. "What would you have done if a farmer hadn't moved in next door?" I lead the way into the farmhouse and specifically into the kitchen, where I produced two bottles of beer and all the parts of a great sandwich.

Leah shrugged. "At least there would always be wild foods to eat."

I raised an eyebrow at her.

"Don't give me that look!"

"That's why you're so underweight!"

"I'm not underweight! I'm thin!"

I almost pulled my beard out over that. Instead, I took a deep breath and brought my voice back to volume level 1. "Well, please eat as much as you care to. And while you're at it, what brought you here, besides lunch?"

Leah spoke around great gobs of pumpernickel and ham and swiss. "Things sort of worked out with Elliott."

"Oh yeah?" I asked, having no idea what that meant.

"Yeah. I mean, he's not super thrilled about it, but he was able to understand what you said, that it's not really fair to expect everyone to get the same meaning when "casual" was never defined."

"Oh, I see."

"And once he was able to see where I had interpreted differently, he could only be so upset. Obviously it'd be different if it happened again, though."

"So are you guys monogamous now?"

Leah chewed for a long time, looking unusually pensive. Then she said, "I don't know."

You could have knocked me over with a feather.

"Don't worry so much, Clark!" she laughed. "We'll figure it out somehow. We always do."

"I'm sure you're right."

We sat together for some time, snacking and joking around. I was really enjoying the beer I had bottled for home use, but I wasn't able to do so without a little concern, considering my own experiences with booze, and now my dad's. I was so busy focusing on being "moderate" with alcohol that I wasn't paying attention when Leah picked up Penny's letter and started reading it. My focus only caught when I saw Leah's eyes start bugging out.

"That's kind of a private letter."

"Then why's it open on the kitchen table?"

"Because I live alone!"

"But obviously I'm gonna read it if it's just out like that."

"No, that's not an 'obviously'! You don't read people's' bills just because they're lying about, do you?"

Leah folded up Penny's letter and handed it back, a little cloud of shame lowering her head. "I never wanted to know this much about your relationship."

I couldn't help but laugh. "What, Ms. 'I'm in a casual, modern relationship' can't handle a frank conversation about sex and feelings?"

"No, it's not that," Leah sighed, sounding downright queasy. "It's just so… _Penny_. I don't know."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"She's like the opposite of me in every single way when it comes to relationships! I like open, casual; she likes fixed, traditional. I'm trying to avoid have kids like the plague and just be my own person; she's dying to be somebody's - most likely your- barefoot housewife and baby-mama."

I shrugged, still drinking my beer. "Is that such a bad thing?"

"To Penny, hell no! To me, hell yes!"

"Oh, I get it now."

"Yeah." Leah looked uncomfortable, like a fourth-grader getting the Birds and the Bees talk. She looked up at me, her head still cast down, asking, "You guys aren't going to get real serious right away, are you?"

"Leah, it was just a dream that I had. We're not expecting right now. Relax."

Leah grimaced. "No, no, that's not what I mean. I'm thick, yeah, but I totally got that it was a dream. No, I'm asking if you're going run out, marry her and knock 'er up as soon as she'll agree to it."

I just blinked in surprise.

"Sorry, that came out pretty blunt even for me."

I needed more beer before I answered her. "Uh, that was kind of the plan, or the daydream, really, I guess. Again, is that a bad thing?"

Leah pried a bit of cheese out of her sandwich to feed to Duke, begging loyally at her side. I could just make out his eyes from across the table. "I mean, not for you guys, obviously. But then I'm not going to be able to come over like this and hang out."

"Says who?"

"Penny's not really my biggest fan, Clark."

"She doesn't have any beefs with you, either. Like you said before, you're just very different people. But she's really accepting. I mean, you and I are like two sides of the same coin, and she likes me! How far could she be from being friends with you?"

"I guess that's true," she said, still sounding a little humdrum. "But then you guys are going to have each other. You won't need me."

I gave her a look, really a kind of smirk and a shake of my head. "What? No. I'll always need a best bro."

With that, a grin took over Leah's face again, like the sun bursting out from behind an eclipse.


	10. Chapter 9

_Thank you for all the followers, favorites, and reviews! You have all been so gracious and kind. It's my pleasure to be sharing this story with you._

* * *

The first plaque I finished for the Junimo was the one in the same room as the broken vault. It required nothing but money, which was obviously significant, but it was also something I had on hand from time to time. Between a few large harvests and being smart about how I spent (and didn't spend) my money, I was able to put up the requisite 42,500G much sooner than I had expected. It was an odd balance that I was striking. I was making money hand over fist, but the money that came in was immediately reinvested into the farm, being dispersed into the community, or traveling home to help support my family. I frequently had such a low balance in my account that I couldn't have fed myself if I had to buy what I grew.

When I brought the required funds to the Junimo, they took it away in a little sack that they dragged into their hut within the Community Center, and then presented me with a gift. They usually weren't worth the money that went into the vault, but it was still nice to get something in return. And when all the items on that plaque were accounted for, the room filled with a burst of light, instantly rejuvenated. The Junimo from the other day explained that they were capable of making the same repairs for all the other rooms as well. Of course, the transformation was stunning. But I was happier to see the tangible changes in the room and realize that the Junimo must be a great deal more than a figment of my imagination to enact them.

The next morning I had risen very early to feed the animals and milk the cows, mostly to sleep in without the guilt of neglecting my animals. The light rain on my roof coaxed me back into deep sleep. I might have slept until noon if there weren't a knock at my door. My newly-expanded farmhouse was less drafty than Grandpa's cottage, but it still didn't have any manner of central heating, so I wrapped myself in a bathrobe on my way to the door.

"Oh my god, Pam, you're soaked. Please come in. Let me get you a towel."

"I didn't mean to get caught in all this riff-raff," she told me, uninterested in my offers but stepping inside nonetheless. "I just came by to thank you for fixing the bus."

She refused the towel I started to hand her. "I didn't fix the bus…"

Pam shook her head with her eyes closed, as people her age sometimes do when they're really insistent. She reached into her back pocket and produced a very formal letter, the kind that comes on heavy paper with a gold foil seal.

" _To whom it may concern,_

" _We write you today to inform you, with great pleasure, of your vehicle's long-awaited repair. Despite all that happened in the past, we can assure you that it is as good as new. In fact, we would go so far as to say that it's better. Please do not concern yourself with the matter of the bill, as it has been paid by your friend and neighbor, Farmer Clark. We wish you many more safe, happy years behind the wheel!"_

I squinted at the signature. Normally, beneath somebody's John Hancock is a printed translation of their name and title, which this letter conspicuously omitted. The only thing clear was that it started with "J", but everything after it was unintelligible. Only then did I start to make the correlation between the vault payments and the repaired bus.

"I don't know who the hell J is, but I checked out my bus this morning, and it's running."

"That's great," I said, hoping I sounded official enough to avoid further questions. My "deadpan" tone, deep voice, and tall stature really helped me out in this instance.

"It is." Pam looked at me with glassy eyes, and spoke with a breaking voice. "Thank you."

"You're so welcome, Pam."

She stood there, composing herself and planning what she wanted to say. She cleared her voice and faced the door. "You know, the only reason I ever started drinking was because so much happened in my life at once. Now that I have my job back, I might finally be able to clean up my act."

"I think that's wonderful. Just don't quit cold turkey, okay?"

"That a challenge?" Pam asked pointedly. I could almost see her bristling at the thought.

"No, it's an order," I said, again trying to channel that official persona. "It's dangerous. Ask Dr. Harvey about it. He can explain it better than I can."

"Okay," she grumbled. She peeked over her shoulder with her hand on the doorknob. "Thanks again, Clark. I mean it."

"No problem, Pam." As soon as the door was shut behind her, I gave Dr. Harvey a call. I was excited to learn of her newfound motivation, and I wanted to make sure she acted on it while it lasted. I didn't share anything confidential with the village Doctor. I just told him to expect a visit from Pam sometime in the next few days, and asked him to please check on her if he didn't get one.

Naturally, this called for a letter to Penny. I set up the coffee machine and settled in to work at the kitchen table, taking in my crops through the front windows before I set pen to paper. Through the window, they were tall, vibrant, and heavy with ripening fruit. It was tempting to calculate my revenue from where I sat, but you couldn't plan a budget that way, not as a farmer. There were still pests and soil-borne diseases out there. A harvest could be decimated overnight. This string of stressful thoughts pulled on my hand and had me tapping my pen against the table. Pam could have all the best intentions to quit drinking today and addiction could still thwart them all tomorrow.

With this in mind, I tamped down on my excitement, pressing it into a little pellet that could be expanded at the right time or thrown away later without much fuss. I tapered down my letter into the objective information, transmitting to Penny only what I knew for a fact, and left all conjecture to myself: that her mother's bus had been repaired, that she had visited me, that she had referenced a readiness to stop drinking. I got up from the letter upon finishing that paragraph to check the calendar on my fridge. Next week, Penny would be coming home for the first time since the summer. I missed her, and I told her so, but I also had to prepare her for the mob of loving relatives that anticipated meeting her.

The rain watered my crops and my animals grazed indoors while I spent a quiet day inside, writing letters and making calls. I had to coordinate when which family members would be coming to visit, to make sure I had enough food ready, among other supplies. Dad could not be mixed with anyone else yet. Mom and Betty were free agents who might come alone or with any combination of Dana's household, Tom might not come at all, and Dana would almost definitely come with all four children. While on the phone with Dad, I asked him to please reach out to Pam by letter and be her sponsor for Alcoholics Anonymous. It would be a long trip for him to Zuzu City, and I told him that if he could make it once a month I would be very happy, as it would mean a lot to my girlfriend and her recovering mother.

With all of the personal happenings that had taken place over the last few weeks, I had largely forgotten about village life. The next morning, while harvesting my pumpkins, I heard the Eastern gate swing open but thought little of it. It wasn't until I heard Mayor Lewis scream in terror that I turned around. Duke loved to greet visitors at the gate, and had apparently raced up to our long-serving mayor, jumped up on his hind legs, and pinned him against the fence to lick his face. It was completely lost on Duke that anyone feared him.

"Duke!" I called him in my sternest voice. "Down!"

My dog did as I commanded and trotted over to me with a big grin on his face, tongue lolling out as he panted. He sat before me with a yawn.

"I'm so, so sorry, Mayor Lewis," I began, offering him a bandana from my pocket to wipe the drool from his face. But he was cross like I had never seen before. It was jarring to see him so red, with purple veins bulging across his temple, in stark contrast with his white moustache. He stuck out his hand in refusal.

"No- no need," he said stiffly. "I only came to tell you about the fair. It's next week. You'll need a Grange Display."

I had no idea what that entailed, but I could see that he was far too upset to tell me. I could probably find out from someone in town or at the library.

"Please," he sneered, "either train your dog or chain it up. I don't care that you want to keep it, but I don't want to be scared within an inch of my life every time I step foot on your property."

I stood my ground. "Mayor Lewis, sir, I understand that you're upset, but I have apologized, and I assure you Duke means no harm."

"I don't care what it intends. Keep it away from me."

"I'll do as you ask. But don't call Duke 'it'."

Lewis glared at me with a rage that swells in the tide of fear. "As you wish."

He did not wish me a good day or make any sort of goodbye. He turned very stiffly on his heels and stormed away, slamming the gate behind him. Duke whimpered. I never did bother to train my dog to be less affectionate. But from that day on, Duke never greeted Mayor Lewis again.

Because I was eager for this last, Penny-less week to go by quickly, it moved at a glacial pace. I tried to keep busy every waking moment, but inevitably I would look at my Dad's watch and realize that not as much time had passed as I had hoped. Replies flooded in from family who wanted to visit and meet Penny. I checked my phone before I went out in the morning, when I came in for lunch, and when I kicked off my boots for the day, returning calls as I was able. My house would be full for most of the time Penny would be back in the valley, so I was anxious to have all the necessary preparations, but I was also concerned about having even one day alone with my girlfriend.

Finally, the day before the fair, Penny called me to tell me that she would be boarding the train in an hour and that her ETA was around noon. My heart almost exploded. Never in my life did I finish my chores so quickly. When the crops were watered, weeded and harvested and the animals grazing happily in the fields, I flew into a cleaning frenzy so intense that Duke beat a hasty escape through the doggy door.

When my house was spic and span to the extent that I knew my Penny would approve of, I left for the train station, eager to be there for her when she arrived. When I stepped through pass that lead to the bathhouse, though, the train was already there along the tracks. I watched the seemingly infinite cars pass by. As the landing became visible again from left to right, I scanned eagerly for her bright red hair. She must have gotten off at the far side of the landing, because for the longest minute of my life, I thought that this must not have been her train. But then the last car pulled into the tunnel, and there stood my Penny, waiting for me.

I ran to greet her and she ran to meet me. We embraced at the bottom of the stairs, and before I even knew what I was doing, I had enveloped her in the passionate kiss I had daydreamed about months before. Over her shoulder, I saw one heel pop up. It was so cute that I couldn't help but smile. When we each pulled back, my arms around her waist, her hands on my shoulders, I looked into her pink, happy face and felt like shouting from the mountain tops. "I missed you," she said softly, like music to my ears.

"I missed you, too." I held her close. "My family can't wait to meet you."

"And I can't wait to meet them."

We both paused. "We may not have a lot of time alone."

Penny looked up at me sweetly. "We have now."

"That's true. Would you want to come back to the farmhouse and…"

"Spend a little time together?"

I smiled, pressing my lips against her porcelain forehead, breathing in her warm, milk-and-honey smell straight from her hair. We walked back hand-in-hand. Earlier in the year we would have considered who might have seen us and what they would have thought. But right then we were too happy to even think about anyone else. Right then, the world was very small, and there was only one other person in it, as far as I was concerned.

When we returned, Duke was content outdoors, chasing some little critter, most likely a groundhog. I held the door for her, my heart pounding in my chest. I wondered if she was thinking what I was thinking, and I wanted to make sure that she felt comfortable being alone with me in my home. My next and most natural gesture was to offer her some coffee. But before my lips had even parted, Penny stepped up to me, pressing my back against the front door, held either side of my head in her hands, and kissed me again. She gave me a look that I understood. She took my hand and lead me into my bedroom, where we made love like I never had before.

Afterwards, I laid in bed with her snuggled up in the crook of my arm. Her hair was deliciously askew as a lady's hair is only after a great romp. I combed through it with my fingers. It might her sigh with relaxation. "I never realized how thick your hair was," I said as if to myself, still high as a kite.

"Pretty common in redheads," she told me. She stroked my beard and smiled. "Please don't ever shave this. I love it so much."

"You make me smile more than I have in my whole life, you know that?"

She giggled, burying her face in my neck. I covered us up a little more with my flannel sheets, seeing the goosebumps go up all over her arms and legs. Her body was so soft and warm and smooth that I never wanted to get up and have to separate from her.

"Penny," I muttered, my voice thick and groggy with impending sleep. "Promise you'll stay by my side?"

"I promise, Clark." She raked her nails over the shorter hairs along my cheek. It felt so good that it sent tingles down my spine. "Promise me the same?"

"I promise, Penny."


	11. Chapter 10

The next morning, I woke up, put on my work jeans, a thermal undershirt, a flannel shirt, and a pair of woolen socks. I poked around in the coals of the fireplace, looking for some red under the cooled layer of ash and soot. Kneeling down, heat radiated in waves, so I grabbed a few pieces of the local newspaper, crumpling them into loose balls and shoving them quickly into the coals. As they caught fire, I followed with thin sticks of scrap wood from a metal bin I kept nearby. Only then did fresh firewood get laid across the andirons. I tended to use pine because it grew so quickly and plentifully on the farm and in Cindersap forest, and spare the maples and oaks for tapping.

I strolled out to the smell of coffee and bacon. Penny stood at the stove with her back to me in her bright yellow blouse, positively dwarfed in my once-black work apron. She turned around with cheery color in her cheeks. I was overcome with déjà vu. I let out a sigh of relief when she turned around and was her everyday, non-pregnant shape. She was a healthy weight, although she would always carry a little extra about her bust and hips, which was great news for me. Her build was almost the complete opposite of Leah's, which was very lean and very thin.

"Good morning!" She chirruped. I felt like like this must be a dream. I walked closer so I could hold her from behind.

"Mornin'," I replied with a peck. My eyes drifted back and forth across the skillet. Everything looked… good. Unusually good. I told her so.

She put her spatula down gently, and turned around to tell me, albeit playfully and with pointed finger. "You lied to me, Sir."

"What?" I scratched my head. "What about?"

She cocked her head at my with a laugh in her eyes. "You always told me about how much you loved my cooking. Well! A third-party finally set me straight."  
I smiled the sad, little kind that comes with mild embarrassment. "There was no way to tell you, Honey."

"I know," she admitted, turning back towards the stove. "The Freeman's cook told me. Her name's Grace. She took one whiff of my cooking and shook her head. Very direct kind of lady. She offered to teach me a few tricks to help me improve."

"And it looks like it's working," I told her. I had to restrain myself to give her space and do what she needed to do. Having missed her for so long, I just wanted to be close to her all the time, but I didn't want to encroach on her space, either. I poured us both some coffee. She accepted her mug and we clinked them together in a silent toast. "How much time until breakfast is ready?"

"I only just started a few minutes ago. Probably about fifteen when all's said and done."

"Ok. I need to take care of the animals. I'll be right back." I laced up my work boots and gathered all the eggs, which takes almost no time at all, said hello to all my ladies in the barn, and milked the four cows. My goat didn't have anything for me that day, although it was her milking day. When I peeked around her, I realized why: she had given birth overnight, and was nursing a kid. Apparently, Marnie kept a mixed herd before she sold me the animals. Maybe if I was lucky, I'd get a free calf or two, too.

When I returned, I rolled up my sleeves to go over the plan for the next few days. "Later today, Betty will be arriving to help us setup. She's my little sister. My mom is going to come up with my older sister- to help her with her kids, since they'll probably be a little rowdy. I don't know if my brother-in-law is coming; he might have to work."

"What should I call your mom?"

I had to think about it. "You know, I've never introduced any of my girlfriends to her before. We might just have to ask her."

Penny looked happy as she tucked a tendril behind her ear.

"She might tell you to call her by her first name, which is Layla, or she might tell you to call her 'Mom'. She's not big on the whole missus thing."

"Why didn't you introduce your other girlfriends to your family?" She glanced at me over her coffee mug. She gave me butterflies in my belly.

"There was no need to," I said. I knew I sounded somewhat cold. "They were never going to be part of the family, and that was something both parties knew from the start."

She nodded. "Did you have lots of partners before me?"

"I don't think so. I had one girlfriend in high school for, like, a week. Then there were two or three girls I spoke to at work- all separate times, of course. But we either decided to stay friends, or we realized that we were both lonely and needed someone to hold but weren't really interested in a relationship, or the whole thing revolved around sex."

Penny looked pensive. Maybe that was too many partners for her. My stomach did a funny twist, the kind that makes you want to hold it without thinking, like your hand will be able to keep it still. "Okay. Thanks for explaining that."

"Is that okay?" I could feel my forehead wrinkling as I studied her face. She seemed unphased, but I couldn't be sure.

"Yeah, I think so. It's more than I thought, but I know you can't change the past."

So she disapproved. I kneaded my stomach gently under the table. It hurt. "What about you?"

She blushed. "There's only ever been one other person."

"Oh?" I tried to appear disinterested. "Who was it?"

"Sam," she confessed, her voice very small.

"I thought you said in the summer that you and he were never together."

She looked at me with some surprise, and then looked away. "We weren't. It was like you said before. We had agreed to be friends with benefits. He had actually insisted on that, and warned me not to catch feelings."

"Let me guess: he caught feelings?"

"Yes, almost right away. In hindsight, I should have stopped seeing him after the first time we hooked up. The signs were clearly there, but I didn't want to see them." Against my will, a scene started to play out in my head, of Sam and Penny kissing, fondling each other, becoming aroused, and making love. I couldn't take it.

"I need to get started with watering the crops," I interrupted, rising from my seat. "Do you need to get anything from home before Betty arrives later?"

"Did I do something wrong?" She asked me, looking concerned. "What happened to your belly? Did the food not agree with you?"

"No, no, I'm fine, just full. I just realized that it's almost seven o'clock and I haven't done anything."

"Okay." She clearly wasn't convinced. She walked up to me before I could reach the door and hugged my back. "I love you, Clark. I'll be back soon."

"I love you, too. See you then."

She smiled at me on the way out the door, but when she turned away I saw it fall and get replaced with worry and self-blame. I wasn't sure if what came up next was going to be gas or something else, so I was afraid to burp or even talk myself through it. The whole time I was watering the crops, I couldn't get that scene out of my head, and I couldn't understand why I was so jealous and hypocritical. I kept telling myself, _Penny loves you and accepts you for who you are! All you have to do is return the favor!_ But the scene kept playing, and the same feelings kept getting stoked.

When the crops were cared for, I washed the dishes and tidied a bit around the house. There wasn't much time before Penny would be back to meet me. I rummaged around in the bathroom medicine cabinet for an antacid or something similar, wanting to be a whole lot closer to one hundred percent by the time Penny returned and Betty arrived. But even as I was searching, I heard the front door open and close.

"Are you okay?" I heard her peep from the bathroom doorway. It was a tight bathroom, perfectly square with just enough room for a shower, a toilet, a sink, and a door that opened out. "You look so pale, Clark. Please, talk to me."

"I'm just a little queasy," I confessed. "I really am okay, though. I just need to nip it in the bud."

"Please," she said again, closing the distance between us. She wrapped one around around me, rubbing my stomach with her other hand. I kissed her forehead, saying,

"You're too good for me, you know that?"

"Not true. We all need a little TLC."

We rocked back and forth together. "I'm sorry about before. It's dumb, but I just couldn't take hearing about you with Sam. I don't even want to think about someone else touching you. I know it's not fair of me to be so jealous and you were understanding when I couldn't be. I've been trying to sort out why I'm so sensitive about it."

She petted my face, and her touch reassured me, knowing that she was there for me, listening. "You don't have to know. To tell you the truth, I felt the same way. It's just different because you know Sam. He's a face and a name that you recognize, and that hurts."

I gave her a light squeeze. I felt so much gratitude for her in that moment. I wished I could give her the world. "We should go," I murmured into her hair. "Betty's gonna be here any minute."

The last time my little sister came for a visit, she came by bus because it was closer to where she went to school. This time she'd be coming from Dana's, so she would arrive by train, just as our mom, our older sister, and her family would in the next day or two. Penny squeezed my hand as we waited. I thought about our conversation over breakfast, about previous girlfriends I'd had, and realized what a big moment this was for me and my family. Never in my life had I stood with a girlfriend and thought- _this is the one!_

As usual, Penny looked lovely. She had opted for a dress that was folksy and cute, a white-and-green gingham with a sweetheart neckline and an A-line skirt that swirled and swished when she walked. Her hair was up in a braided bun, the kind that had confused and amazed me since I was a little boy. How did women do such delicate handiwork blindly, with their hands behind their heads? Her jewelry was understated and elegant, small pearl earrings and a matching necklace from her grandmother. I was so proud to stand beside her.

Betty's train arrived a little late, and she almost didn't make her stop. Apparently the landing at Stardew Valley was so small that only four or five train cars could be used to exit. In Betty's case, they were using the last few cars, and she had been sitting close to the front. When I saw her in the doorway, and she saw us, she bounced up and down and hugged us before she could say hello. "Clarky!"

I hugged her back, picking her up off the ground and swinging her from side to side. I was all set to introduce her to Penny, but the instant I let my sister go, she was hugging my girlfriend, too.

"It's so nice to meet you!" She cried.

Penny laughed good-naturedly. "It's so nice to meet you, too!"

Betty's hair was long now, almost down to her rear end, and it swished about behind her as she surveyed me. "Wow, have you lost weight?"

"Yeah, 'bout thirty pounds now."

"Wow, congratulations. What's your secret?"

"You don't need to lose weight, Betty."

"I want to lose five pounds, though."

I gave her a look, and gestured for the girls to follow me. "Don't be silly. Now, let me show you what's changed since you were last here."

Betty chatted with Penny on our way back, with a great spring in her step as she admired the fall foliage. They complimented each other on their choice of dress and hairstyles, and asked about each other's interests and hobbies. I listened with great interest from a few steps ahead. Betty was like the egg in any baking recipe; her flavor was neutral, and she made for a great social binding agent. It sounded to me like they were already getting along swimmingly, a great omen for the rest of the family's reception.

When we arrived back at the farm, naturally, Duke came bounding. "A… puppy!" Betty hollered for joy. She had always wanted a dog growing up, but it wasn't meant to be. He jumped all about, kissing her face, then throwing himself in the dirt with his belly in the air, inviting her to rub him. Oh, to be a dog.

I gave Betty a tour of the farm facilities. I was aware that Penny had never had an opportunity to really inspect my business, so I was eager to show off a little bit. Whenever I had some spare materials and an hour or two at the end of the day, I had laid a path around the farm, such that the cobblestone was a walking path, and the wooden path outlined where to sow the crops. From East to West, there was small- to medium-size field where I was currently growing all manner of fall produce, then there was the largest pond on my property, then the combined pasture for the barn and coop animals. South of the pasture was a large field that lay fallow.

Betty asked if we could go into the pasture, and I agreed that we could. She was delighted with the tiny, newborn kid. It bleated at her until she scratched it's chin. "Do they have names?"

"Oh yeah!" I put my hands on my hips and looked around, hooking my thumbs in my belt loops. "All the ducks are named after days of the week- so over there are Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday. The chickens are named after months of the year. I have four, and so you've got January, February, March, and April. The cows are named after astrological signs: Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer. The mama goat is named Spring, and her daughter is Summer."

Penny laughed. "I like that sequence. If you get sheep or rabbits, you should name them after the Chinese zodiac."

"But what will I name the pigs?"

"How about naming them after the weather?" Betty suggested, as Summer scampered away.

"That's not a bad idea. I paid Marnie for one of her piglets the other day. When it's old enough to bring home, maybe I'll name it Sunshine."

Betty was fascinated by the ruins of the greenhouse, the mushroom cave, and the grounds for my future stable; Robin wouldn't start the project until I gave her the last few pieces of hardwood required. By the farmhouse, I had torn up the grass in places to lay down stone or finished wood floors to refine goods close to the shipping bin. These were less interesting to her. The big exception was the crystalarium. My baby sister the physics major was absolutely fascinated with the minute details of its mechanisms. She started talking about particle acceleration. Penny's eyes bugged out of her head as she tried desperately to follow what she was saying. When Betty turned around, I rubbed my girlfriend's back and gave her a gesture that told her she was doing great, and not to worry about it.

That evening, we all enjoyed Penny's cooking and a glass of homemade wine, fermented from grapes I had grown myself. Betty nodded as she surveyed the expanded farmhouse from where we sat at my kitchen table. "You worry too much, Clarky. There's plenty of room for everybody here. They all know to bring sleeping bags."

"I was thinking that the kids would sleep in the living room, and that you, Mom, and Dana would sleep in the bedroom."

"Yeah, that would work great. Jack might sleep with his mom, though; the others will be fine. Is Penny going to stay over, too?"

I looked to my girlfriend for an answer. She blushed. "I wasn't sure if that was okay."

"Of course," I reassured her. "My family's not weird about that."

"Oh, good." She let her head rest on my shoulder. I think the wine was getting to her a little, as someone who almost never drank.

Betty asked us pleasantly, "So, how did you guys meet?"

"I think it was when I was going around town introducing myself. I remember knocking on the door at your mom's trailer, thinking–" I stopped myself, remembering that I had been thinking about a stereotypical redneck daddy with a shotgun. I switched tracks immediately. "Thinking about how nervous I was!"

Penny looked a little uncomfortable that I had slipped up and mentioned that her mother lived in a trailer. Betty asked innocently, "Oh, is there a trailer park in the valley?"

My girlfriend got redder and redder. "No, we've got the only one."

"That's fine!" My sister insisted, seeing her get more and more withdrawn. "We all had to come from somewhere, right?"

I changed the topic. "Speaking of which, Betty, where's Mike from?"

"Oh, he hasn't said much about it. But when he got mail from his parents towards the end of school, I noticed that the return address was from a pretty nice neighborhood. I'm kind of nervous about meeting his family. I get the impression that they're really well-to-do."

Penny laughed softly. "Sounds like we're in the same boat."

Betty and I looked at each other. True, we never thought of our family as well-off, but when I looked back on our childhood, I realized that we never wanted for much. Of course, Mom worked multiple jobs and Dad wasn't in the picture for most of it, but we knew she loved us and would be there for us in hell or high water. We never thought about bills or the mortgage. We had taken for granted that Mom was a responsible adult, the kind who made it possible for kids to be kids.

I took up my girlfriend's hand and covered it with mine, looking her in the eye. "I don't care where you came from."

"I know," she said, her smile returning. Then she said to my sister quietly, "Please don't mention it to your family when they come. I want them to get to know me first."

"Of course," my sister agreed. "And I just know they're going to love you."


	12. Chapter 11

The next day was like almost identical in terms of events, but infinitely more hectic. Mom was all over Penny the minute she arrived, hugging and kissing her probably more than Penny had ever been hugged in her entire life. Dana was only marginally better. Tom shook her hand and gave her the kind of friendly hug that left a space bubble in between two acquaintances. The kids were absolutely, positively bouncing off the walls, and they each fed off each other's energy.

We all had a picnic outside, in one of the big grassy clearings by Cindersap forest. Penny had invited Jas and Vincent to come and play with the older children. Here, they could play rough and run themselves to exhaustion. Jack did his best to follow suit. Vincent was especially kind to him, and took great pains to make sure he was included.

Then, with the children occupied, the adults were free to do as they pleased. We all had a beer and munched on sandwiches and talked about adult things. Dana began, flipping her thick curls over her shoulder with effort. "Oh my god, I can't believe we're all this old!"

My mom laughed, "Imagine how I feel!"

"I know! I can't even!"

Tom leaned back on his hands, occasionally glancing over at the kids to make sure they were alright. "It's really strange. In my head, I'm still a teenager. It still blows my mind to think that I'm closer to the big three-oh than I am to eighteen."

"All my children have partners!" Mom declared. "My _babies_ all have partners!"

Tom clicked his tongue and said to his wife, "Can you imagine saying that someday?"

"God, no."

"I said that too, once!"

"Do you think you'll have any more children?" Betty asked, munching on fruit.

Dana and Tom exchanged a look, and then from far off the children screamed in the midst of a play-fight. "Nah," they said together. Mom laughed again.

"What about you, Penny, do you have siblings?" Dana asked.

"No, it's just me," my girlfriend shrugged. "I always wanted some, but it wasn't meant to be."

Mom said wryly to her, "Isn't it funny how things work out? There were a lot of times I would've killed to give my brother away."

"Aw, Mom, Uncle Mike's a great guy," I chimed in.

"He's a great _man_ , but you didn't know him as a teenager!"

"I'm with Clarky, Uncle Mike is fine," Dana snorted, "if only we could get rid of Aunt Sara!"

We, the three siblings, all had a laugh at that, and my mom smirked as she clued in my girlfriend. "We all have an Aunt Sara, if you know what I mean."

Penny smiled. She didn't eat much around my family, probably because nerves had killed her appetite. This concerned my mom very much, and she was constantly trying to feed my girlfriend, something I realized I had picked up from her as I watched her do it.

"Did you grow up in the valley?" Mom asked.

"Yes, I've spent my whole life here."

"I can't get wifi," Dana complained in the background.

"Oh, you won't," Penny told her, already distracted. "The only internet you'll get out here is through some kind of cable."

Betty turned to my girlfriend with her curious eyes, big and innocent like a baby doll's. "What was it like, growing up in a rural area?" she asked, covering her mouth as she chewed on apple slices.

"Oh, pretty nice. I've never wanted for anything more."

My mom nodded. "They say that's what truly wealthy people have: enough."

We all let that last line sink in for a moment. Then Tom said thoughtfully, "Thanksgiving _is_ around the corner."

"Are we hosting that this year?"

"I certainly wouldn't mind."

I watched the way Tom and Dana interacted. They spoke so close to each other, in this very private tone that wasn't sickeningly sweet, but unmistakably intimate nonetheless. Their limbs always seemed to be woven together somehow. And I thought to myself as I watched them that I could learn a lot from their marriage.

Mom asked Penny, "Feel free to join us if you like! You're invited. So's Michael, Betty."

"He goes by Mike, Mom."

"My brother's Mike. I need to keep them straight in my head somehow!"

"Can I bring my mom?" Penny asked.

"Of course! Bring whoever you like. Just tell us ahead of time so we know we'll have enough food."

"What was it like," Penny asked us siblings generally, "to grow up in a big family?"

I had to think about it, and I could see that my sisters did, too. "We never considered ourselves a big family," Dana supposed, "but we are now, since we're still all in the same house. Personally, I love it."

My mom followed the responses with the same eagerness as Penny, like spectators at Wimbledon. Betty told us all, "I don't really want to move out of your house, Dana. Even when I'm married and have my own family and my own career, sometimes I imagine a future where we live in this duplex-like family compound!"

And Tom said to Penny, a quiet voice amidst the bluster, "I grew up in a family bigger than theirs, but it was never like this in my parents' home. I don't think it had to do with my parents' style of parenting or our religion or anything. We just weren't very close, and we didn't do very many things together."

"Oh, I see. How do you like the change?"

"I prefer the way Layla raised her children," he said, lauding my mother, his voice brimming with respect. "I think she did a great job."

My mom waved her hand dismissively, although she had a great big smile plastered all over her face. Penny paused, taking in what Tom had said. "You mentioned 'our religion'. What religion did you grow up in?"

"Orthodox Judaism. I miss it sometimes. I loved the rituals, the holidays, the togetherness of it."

"Then why did you leave it, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I don't mind," Tom smiled in that mild way of his. "My family tended to abuse faith as a reason to exclude others. They didn't want me to marry Dana because she didn't grow up like me. When I decided to marry her anyway, a lot of people in my life didn't want anything to do with me anymore. And without the people I associated those traditions with, I realized that I didn't care that much about the traditions themselves."

"That's very interesting, thank you."

"Oh, anytime."

"So will we get a chance to meet your parents?" My mom asked Penny.

"Probably not, I'm afraid. She's been working a lot recently, probably trying to make up for lost time since she got her job back."

"Good for her!" My mom said, the rare person who genuinely means it. "What does she do for a living?"

Just like the day before with the trailer incident, I think Penny felt her class with the question. She colored a bit as she told my mom, "She drives a bus that shuttles people between the city, the desert, and the valley."

"Wow!"

Dana nodded. "I could see how that would be a big deal around here. There probably isn't a whole lot of local mass transit."

"There isn't," Penny acknowledged. "When her bus was out of commission, there was no way to get to the desert for most people."

"If we had to get into the city, we could get a ride from Mayor Lewis, but we usually didn't want to bother him," I chimed in. "He has a pickup truck."

"Wait, if her bus was out of commission, how did she start driving again? Did the bus company replace it?"

"No, see, in a rural area like this, bussing is a lot more like trucking, in that the driver is often responsible for their own vehicle. In a lot of cities and townships and school districts, you might pay a company that sends vehicles and drivers to meet your needs. But out here, the individual is usually just that."

"So when it broke down, your mom must have been SOL," Dana translated, making a sympathetic noise with her cheek.

"Just about," Penny looked at me with her smiling eyes. "Her life's improved a lot since your brother arranged for it to be fixed."

When the picnic was over and we were walking back towards the farm, our crowd naturally separated like milk in a jug. The children ran ahead, eager to see Uncle Clark's farm again, their favorite playground. Tom, Penny, and my sisters were busily discussing a show that everybody was apparently following. Mom and I brought up the rear, the blanket over my shoulder, the lightened picnic basket in my free hand.

"So," I asked her, "What do you think of Penny?"

"She's lovely, Clark," she said. "I'm so glad to finally meet one of your girlfriends. Is there a reason why she's the first?"

My mom knew me a little too well. "I never bring somebody home to Mama if I don't think she's going to being around for a while."

"And you think Penny will be?"

I nodded. "I wanted you to meet her as soon as I knew for myself that I wanted to be with her."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" My mom asked me wryly, dropping her voice.

"I'm thinking about asking her to marry me in a few months. I'm just trying to figure out how to do it."

"That doesn't leave me much time to get to know her!"

"Well then, get to it!"

My family stayed for five days and four nights. I couldn't remember the last time I had so much fun with them. It was much too cold to play in the water in mid-to-late October, but the kids had fun jumping in great piles of leaves, chasing the chickens and ducks, wrestling with Duke, and playing make-believe in the mushroom cave. The adults spent most of their waking hours either lounging and chatting or walking about the area. They had a lot of fun exploring the mountain path especially, and the kids would sometimes go with them.

We had difficult moments too, of course. Sometimes the kids bickered all day; it drove me up the walls. I kicked them out of the chicken coop when they caught up with one of my ducks and almost hurt it badly. My niece cried for almost an hour over the injustice of it all. Dana and Tom got into a grueling fight one evening. I thought no one else would get any sleep that night. And at one point, I even raised my voice with my mother, because she had been making comments about Penny all afternoon. Penny had taken it all in stride, but I just couldn't hear it any longer.

So when it was time for everyone to go home, I was relieved. For the next few days, I did little more than the minimum my farm required to keep running and then came back inside to lay in bed with Penny, savoring the quiet. We had a couple more great romps. I quickly became accustomed to waking up next to my beloved, eating her much-improved cooking, and coming home to a freshly made bed. Penny was indeed the kind of farmer's wife I had in mind. I was enjoying myself so much that I almost didn't want my dad to come meet her.

But then, the matter was taken out of my hands. Dad called the night before I had anticipated his arrival to cancel our plans. He promised he'd be here in time for the holidays. I acquiesced. It brought back memories to when I was a kid, and all the promises he broke. The only thing I could do was hope that this really was a fluke.

Without my dad's visit, Penny and I would have almost a week to ourselves. She seemed very content to stay over my place. Of course we visited her mother multiple days of the week for dinner, sometimes at my home and sometimes at hers, but for the most part, Penny lived at my farmhouse during that time. One night I asked her, as we lay, cuddled up on the couch in front of the TV, if she wanted to move in with me.

She looked happy, lying there in my arms, with Duke sprawled halfway across her body. "You mean, completely? Or do you mean you'll clear out a drawer for me?"

"I mean, when you come home from the Freemans', this is where you call home."

She considered it, massaging my dog's head so lovingly that he yawned. His tail thumped against the upholstery, his one hind leg dangling off the couch. "I need to think about it. It's a big jump, don't you think? I don't want to move too fast."

"That's true. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. I just figured it'd be nice to try things out. You know, see how we do together as roommates."

"Try out…?" Penny looked up at me with mixed emotions. "Clark, I'm not ready."

"For what?"

"To commit to marriage." She sat up, and Duke hopped off her lap, trotting off to his favorite dozing place on the rug before the fire. "I definitely want to marry you someday, but I only just started dating you this summer."

"I know, I'm not saying I'd be proposing tomorrow. I'm just saying that you never really know a person until you live with them."

"Can I think about it?"

"Of course. Take all the time you need."

The TV was the only sound in the room for a little while after that. I was trying to figure out how love was supposed to work. I had been in so many hollow relationships and wondered if I would ever find real love in my lifetime. Here I was, laying on the same couch as the woman I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, and now the concern wasn't love so much as convention and propriety. I felt so frustrated. Everything was perfect: my family loved her, she was an excellent roommate, we were friends as much as we were sweethearts and lovers. The amount of time we had known each other intimately seemed like a pathetic excuse not to have more Penny in my day-to-day life.

"Clark?" she said, to get my attention. She caught me staring off into space as I worked through my mental monologue.

"Yep."

"There's something more I want you to know before I head back to the Freemans'."

"Okay, shoot."

Penny picked at her fingernails. "I feel like you maybe it would change the way you feel about me."

"What are you talking about?" I tried to joke. "What could possibly make me love you any less?"

"Well, I still feel guilty about the way things turned out. I had told you that I should've ended it right after the first time."

"Yeah, you said that in hindsight, it was pretty obvious."

"Right. The problem was, I knew deep down after just three months or so that he had caught feelings. But I kept seeing him. It was really selfish of me."

"We all do selfish things sometimes though, love. I mean–"

"I kept seeing him for almost five years," she blurted out.

I hesitated, afraid of what my voice would sound like when I spoke again. "So, how long had you two been officially over for when…"

She looked at me with great big eyes, widened with fear and glassy with regret.

"Penny?"

She bit her lip while trying to prevent the tears from spilling over. "After I met you."

In that moment, the whole room tilted sharply to one side. I had to put my head down against the armrest of the couch. "So you were still banging Sam when I met you?"

"Yes."

I closed my eyes, feeling sick to my stomach. "Did you at least stop by the time we started dating?"

"Yes, of course."

"By how much? Days?"

"Weeks," she confessed.

I was stunned beyond speech.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," she crooned, her head on my chest, her hands petting my torso.

"Am I a rebound, Penny?" I demanded.

She lifted her head to look me in the eyes. "No, Clark. I'm telling you: I never loved him. That's why I stopped seeing him to take my chances with you."

My eyes burned. "Why didn't you tell me this when I first gave you the bouquet?"

"Because I didn't want to scare you away."

"Have you ever hooked up with him since?"

"God, no, I'd never cheat."

I covered my face, feeling the tears well up and threaten to spill over. "But you would pork a guy you didn't love for years, and hop trains to committed relationship in a couple of weeks? Can I even trust you?"

"I'm sorry, Clark. I should have told you."

The more I didn't want to cry in front of her, the more tears came against my well. I got up and stood facing away from her, "I feel like our whole relationship has been a lie."

"That's not true."

"I based it off of mutual attraction and affection. I thought I saw that you had eyes only for me and I for you," I said as if to myself, voicing an intimate thought for the first time. I choked up. "But even as I was falling for you, you were playing some other guy?"

Penny sobbed behind me, declaring, "I never meant to play anybody, please, believe me!"

I couldn't answer. I could only stand there, my chest heaving, my face entombed in my hands.

"Clark, I never thought I would find real love. Not in a town like this. So when I found some reliable companionship, I took it. When I first saw you," she paused to catch her breath and compose herself, "I saw the opportunity for so much more. You felt that I only had eyes for you because _I did_. I was intent on loving you right from the start."

I wanted to look at her and comfort her, tell her that it all made sense and that I just needed to feel what I was feeling right now. But my feelings were messy. I knew that if I turned around, she would see a Clark she'd never seen before, one with puffy eyes, snot running down his chin, tears streaming down his face, and no composure whatsoever. I grabbed the hankie from my pocket and tried to mop up my face. "I'm sorry. I'm trying to pull myself together."

"It's okay." She walked up behind me, still crying herself, and wrapped her arms around me. "I won't police how you feel."

"Penny," I started, very slowly, "you're right. We are moving too fast. There's too much I don't know about you for this relationship to get any more serious. But I love you, so much that it hurts, so much that I can't think about anyone else."

She nodded, nuzzling and sniffling into my back.

"I need to process everything you said tonight, okay? And then we can talk about it more. I'll tell you all about where I've been, too. So we both know what we're getting into. But there's one thing I need from you."

"Okay."

"I need to know with all my heart that you only love me, and that you're not sleeping with anybody else."

"Turn around." I did as she commanded in her softest voice. She looked me in the eyes, took up my hands, and pronounced very clearly, "I love only you, and I'm only sleeping with you."

I stroked her cheek. "Penny, why does this hurt so much?"

"It always hurts a little when you're really invested in something. You've got a lot to lose."


	13. Chapter 12

_Hey all, sorry about the delay. I'm struggling with some mental health stuff right now, but this story remains active, and I'm holding myself to a once-a-week update minimum :) Thanks as always for all your kind reviews, follows, and favs. You guys are the best._

* * *

Before Penny returned to work, we decided on a compromise. She could fill the top drawer of my dresser with whatever she chose, and would receive a key to the farmhouse to access it at any time, but was not expected to move in until we both expressed a readiness to do so. I had laid on my bed in pajamas and a pair of socks she had mended for me, watching her unpack a large duffel bag. Her choices were delightfully practical: a neutral skirt, a little black dress, several pretty blouses and matching camisoles, clean white undies, a nude bra or two, a light sweater, and extra socks. She folded it all with great care and laid each item end-to-end, so that every last item could be seen from above.

We decided to say goodbye on my front porch instead of by the train station. It was too sad for both of us to see the other, waving with tears in their eyes, knowing that it would be another six weeks before we saw each other again. So we hugged it out on my porch, promising that we'd write, and wishing each other good luck and good health. Duke received lots of pats and praise. I held him by the scruff when Penny finally had to leave through the northern gate. Duke tried to get up and follow her, crying and whimpering as she disappeared. He laid on the porch for the rest of the day. He didn't chase a single critter.

I tried to be more grateful than I was sad. My farm was still producing at an incredible rate, even though I hadn't been giving it the effort it deserved. My animal enclosures needed to be upgraded to the deluxe capacity, mostly to allow me to keep more animals, but also for some of the fun bells and whistles that came with it, like the auto-feeder. My farm was rich in resources that I had frankly been underutilizing, especially wood. The western side was rich in hardwood, which I needed for both a stable and yet another upgrade of my home. I wanted to have a family someday, and for that, I'd need a nursery.

Once again, work consumed my every waking hour. The enclosures were the first things I ticked off. They were commissions, so as soon as I provided Robin the money and the materials she required, I was free to do things that needed my full participation. I began hoarding hardwood for future projects, as well as wheat from my fields, with the hopes of a productive winter full of brewing. The end of the growing season lingered in the back of my mind like a bedroom monster, and I was constantly afraid that I wouldn't have enough food, fodder, or income when Old Man Winter finally arrived.

That Friday, I worked until about 6 p.m., and called it a day. I had neglected my slow-cooker when I could on depend on Penny to make dinner, but without her, it was the only way I'd ever get to eat dinner at a reasonable time. I made one of my favorite budget recipes, clam chowder, because as usual I was making a great profit but had almost no balance to show for it. I combed the beach about once a week on a slower day and plucked a small bucket of clams, mussels, and oysters for stew, and of course I diverted a little of the milk my cows produced for personal use. It remained a favorite after eating it dozens of times since coming to Stardew Valley due to its simplicity, its ease of preparing, and most of all, due to the way it comforted me when I was alone.

But even good food couldn't make me forget about Penny, so I headed off to the saloon. I knew at least that Gus would be there with a smile. I periodically brought him some of my homebrew to get his pointers before I started making large batches, and he'd been a delightful mentor in that respect. When I arrived, I could see the wind as it reached people, stirring from their cozy places to peer at the jerk who opened the door or huddle closer to their partner. I didn't quite run into Gus– this time, Emily was running the bar– but the effect was the same. She brought me a nice stout and told me a fantastical story about a dream she'd had.

At some point, when I was about halfway through my pint, I heard someone take up the seat next to me. I glanced over reflexively, but it seemed that my attention was desired, too. "Hey," Sebastian said. He seemed a bit nervous. "I didn't realize you were here, or I would've stopped by sooner."

"Hey, man, long time no see. Can I get you a beer?"

"No, I'm probably good for tonight."

"Oh, okay." I looked up at the screen. There was no gridball today, just news. It started to get political, so I looked into my beer instead. "Your friends here?"

"No, tonight's kind of unusual in that respect. You see, Abby's grounded for hanging out at a saloon underage, so there's that."

I laughed. "Yeah."

"And, uh, Sam…"

I glanced over at him, wondering what had him hesitating like that. "It's okay, I know about him and Penny. She told me everything."

"So you know that they were a thing."

"That they hooked up, yeah."

"So, about that…"

"They're not still hooking up, right?" I asked, praying that I sounded casual. Sebastian flinched.

"No, they're not, but that's why I came over here when I finally saw you." Sebastian took a deep breath and then finally looked at me. "Sam wants her back. He's been writing to her while she's been working in the city and calling her, too. And he's planning to take a train to go see her, since she won't answer him."

"When?" I demanded.

"I'm not one hundred percent sure, but I can text him." He pulled out his phone and tapped out a quick message.

"How do you get reception out here?"

"Oh, it's alright locally for texts. But don't even try to send a meme."

I took an angry swig of beer. I had to talk to this guy and clear things up. "So? What's he saying?"

Sebastian's eyes scanned back and forth. "He's waiting for the next train now. The last train of the day."

"Emily!" I called. "Thanks for the stout! Put it in my tab, please!"

"You got it!"

"Sebastian, you're coming with me. We can still catch him if we hurry."

"Yeah, I have something of a vested interested in making sure you don't kill him."

The saloon door slammed behind us as we marched into the night. We only had about twenty minutes to catch the train, and unfortunately, this was the one town I'd ever lived in where the trains came on time. I bolted as soon as my boots hit the path.

"Do we have to run?" I could hear Sebastian complain. "I don't run."

I didn't answer him. All of my breath was for running. The thing is, I wasn't a racehorse; I was a workhorse. I wasn't fast, or graceful, but I could endure. I could endure heat, cold, long hours of strenuous work with little to eat or drink. Even after losing thirty pounds, it was still hard to move so much man at anything beyond a brisk walk. But I was running on fury. What a sight I must have been to Sebastian, an almost 200-pound guy, charging along like a runaway train, knowing that his friend waited for us at the other end without a clue of what he was in for.

Suddenly the clearing was in sight. My senses kicked in enough to look for the incoming train and listen for its horn. Sam didn't immediately see us approach because, as usual, he was busy playing a game on his phone. The sun had already set, and his eyes needed time to adjust to the darkness when he finally did look up, as I stepped onto the platform stairs. His eyes widened when he recognized me. I pressed into his personal space and drew myself up to full height. Before I could open my mouth, Sebastian caught up to us and forced us apart, gasping for breath. He clearly wasn't a racehorse, either.

"Guys," he panted, "let's talk this out."

"Dude, why are you here? Did you– did you really go ahead and tell him?"

"Sam, I had to."

Sam gestured widely with his hands, shoving his phone into his back pocket. "What the hell? Why?"

"Because we both know this is wrong."

Sam shook his head, not looking at us. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"She's moved on, Sam!" Sebastian continued. "She's told you that at every turn! She told you point-blank when it ended. She won't answer you. She–"

"She was with me for five years!" Sam exploded with the kind of roar that leaves you hoarse the next day. "I can't just let her go!"

I spoke, trying to keep my voice level. "But she never loved you."

They both turned to look at me, Sebastian paler than ever and with a deepening, pensive frown, his good friend reddening like a beet. I wondered if he was going Super Saiyan. We heard the first, almost inaudible train whistle in the distance. We had two minutes until it arrived.

Sam strode past his friend with a rigid finger aimed at my nose. "You don't know what you're talking about. The only reason she ever left was because of you. Sue me for trying to get her back!"

I gripped his wrist and lowered his arm, looking down on him and trying to remember to breathe. "Look, she told me about what happened between you two. I can't imagine how much that must have hurt. She knows that she was wrong and that she should have stopped seeing you much, much sooner."

Sam ripped his wrist from my grasp. "Nice try. You hold all the cards. Of course you're going to bluff and say, 'I know Penny best! What I say about Penny is law!' Well listen, bud, I've known Penny a hell of a lot longer than you, and I know what I felt between us."

The train whistled again, not loud, but loud enough to be heard without difficulty. Sebastian put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Sam, I won't tell you what there used to be between you, but whatever it was, it's over."

"Don't touch me!" He cried, shirking his friend's grasp much as he had mine. "I know it looks like that, but how is she supposed to return my calls when she's got The Hulk over here monitoring her every move? If he weren't here, I'm telling you, things would be exactly like they used to be."

"Sam–"

The train bellowed, sending vibrations up our legs and making the old platform wobble disconcertingly. It tore out of the tunnel, ripped past us, and into the next tunnel in the blink of an eye. Its tailwind took the breath right out of me.

We all gaped after it. Sam stammered, "My… my train…"

Sebastian turned around and look at the timetable. "Looks like the 9 o'clock train is an express."

Sam sank to the floor, exasperated, and dangled his legs from the edge of the platform. "Shit. And we don't get regular weekend trains." He looked at me with a spite borne of sadness. "Must be great news for you."

"Sam, I really am sorry for the hurt I've caused you. I never meant to." I squatted down so we were almost at eye level. "But Penny and I are dating now, and I came here to ask that you respect that."

Sam crossed his arms, but his face looked more relaxed.

"If you want, the three of us can meet when Penny get backs into town."

He shook his head. "If you're there, how do I know she's not holding back for you?"

I thought about it. Then I exchanged glances with Sebastian. "Why not meet with her and Sebastian then? There'd be a third party there to verify what happened. If I'm the only thing holding Penny back, then she should be free to say whatever comes to mind."

"I mean, if this is between Penny and I, why do I need a third party?"

Sebastian sat next to his friend with a thump. I was surprised that his flat, emo butt had enough padding for that. "I think what Clark's getting at is that, you and he both have pretty strong ideas of what Penny wants, and you're both hearing what you want to hear. If you have somebody else in the picture, it's more likely that we'll all hear what Penny _actually_ wants."

Sam thought it over, literally twiddling his thumbs. He said to me without making eye contact, "Arrange it with Penny and let us known the time and place. We'll be there."

"You got it."

Sebastian gave me a nod that was very small but expressive. I knew that he needed me to go on my way so that he could patch Sam up before getting him home. I returned his nod and started back.


	14. Chapter 13

Time raced forward into late fall. I sent Penny the longest letter yet, about five pages of handwritten account of the incident with Sam. We wrote back and forth largely on the same issue, often writing each other two to three times as often as normal. There was a theme to all her rejections of our planned meeting: she did not want to be alone with Sam. I wanted to press her for why. She seemed unsatisfied with Sebastian as a third party, and stated that she would have much preferred I was there in case anything happened. As her replies came in, I conferred with Sebastian, who was quickly becoming a mutual friend.

At one point, we considered asking Mayor Thomas, and asked her if that would be acceptable instead. In her reply, she asked me why all the times she had told Sam "no" before hadn't been enough, why she still had to answer to his obsessive requests to take him back. And I realized then that we were being unfair to her. A bunch of men had decided to have a meeting without asking her to decide an issue that revolved entirely around her. She had answered Sam before and Sam hadn't listened. Why would this time be any different? Why did she have to go through the humiliation of either being alone with an ex-lover she didn't want to see, or have someone entirely uninvolved privy to the details of her love life?

When I explained this to Sebastian on the phone, he seemed to know what I was going to say before I said it. I had asked him to call me earlier, but apparently he was quite the night owl, and insisted on calling me near midnight. I was drooping in my kitchen chair. It sounded like Sebastian was smoking indoors, exhaling through an open window. "I thought about that when we first brought it up, but would've agreed to just about anything to prevent Sam from getting on that train."

"I know, me too."

"It makes sense that she doesn't want to do this again. But what do we do with Sam? He's convinced that he's only going to take the rejection from Penny, but he hasn't taken it before; how do we know he'll take it this time?"

"Isn't there some way we could distract him?" I asked, rubbing my face in an effort to stay awake. "Couldn't we introduce him to a new person, a new hobby, something?"

"I've been trying man, believe me."

"No dice?"

"He's distracted while we're playing games or whatever. But the second the distraction ends, his focus snaps back to Penny."

"Was he always like this?" I asked Sebastian. "You've been friends with him since you were little, right?"

I heard him exhale long and low, like someone only does through pursed lips. "We became friends when I moved here, shortly after Mom got remarried. I was tiny, just about walking. So yeah, we've been friends a long time." Another drag. "He would fixate on things, but never like this. I think it's just everything at once, you know?"

"To tell you the truth, I don't know enough about the guy to say."

"Oh, right. Hold on, let me put this out. This stays strictly between you and I. He's never told anybody but me, not even Abby." Her name clung onto his lips. I wanted to ask him about who she was to him, but it wasn't the right time.

"Of course."

"Sam was never an angry guy growing up. You could push him down, rough him up, call him names, and nothing would get to him."

"Did you…?"

"No, we were losers together in school," the emo prince said, ever nonchalant. "But Sam wasn't 'fun' to pick on, because nothing bothered him. So the bullies moved on to better targets, and we moved up from 'losers' to 'invisibles'; we'd never be cool, but if it meant nobody would try to fuck with us anymore, we were happy.

"The tipping point for Sam was when his parents conceived Vincent by accident. Sam was set to graduate from high school and his mom was puking from morning sickness. He got into huge fights with his parents, because he didn't want the new sibling, and he hoped that they would abort or give it away. Jodi would burst into tears, and then Kent would get all riled up, and then he and Sam would wind up trying to beat the crap out of each other.

"It got so bad that there were times I had to bodily drag Sam out of his house to Harvey's or even drive him to an emergency room. In retrospect, I think he and Kent would both white-out, and go after each other in a blind rage. Because half the time I was transporting Sam, he'd come to his senses, spit over his shoulder, and ask me, 'What's up?' like he had no idea what had just happened.

"Sam would stay at our house while things cooled down. But Maru was still a teenager, and my step-dad didn't like the way Sam talked about his would-be younger brother, because it hit a little too close to home. So Demetrius would try to kick Sam out. Fat chance in hell." I heard the _flick_ of his lighter. "So then my mom would get involved, because she felt for us, and she didn't want me to resent my step-dad more than I already did."

"Sounds like this got real complicated real quick."

"That's one way to put it. When something affects one of us, it affects both of us, you know what I mean?"

"Definitely."

"Then Vincent was born. The costs of a new baby meant Sam wasn't going to college. Kent deployed about a month after on another tour of duty. Jodi was a wreck. She hadn't been a new mom in almost twenty years, felt completely lost, Sam wanted nothing to do with the baby, and her husband was gone. Looking back, I think she had postpartum depression. She cried all the time, more than the baby did."

"Oh man," I mused, rubbing my eyebrows as I tried to process the thickening plot.

"Don't worry, things did eventually get better– when Penny came in."

I perked up in my chair but said nothing.

"Penny finished high school about the same time as us, and as you know, there isn't a whole lot of work for a teen in the valley. Most of us were miffed that we had to go to community college because a university would be prohibitively expensive. But Penny, no disrespect, wasn't remotely concerned with any of that, because she was busy trying to keep the lights on."

"None taken."

"So, looking for work, she comes to Jodi and offers to watch baby Vincent whenever she needs. Jodi is thrilled. I don't think Penny made a lot as his night nurse, since Sam's family was far from rich, but it was a good deal for all involved. Jodi started to improve after catching up on sleep. Sam and Penny would stay up together to talk all night, which led to them hooking up."

"Wow," I marvelled quietly at how involved each person's life was. "So that's how we got on this ride."

"Yeah. You can see why Penny means so much to Sam. She got him through some really tough times."

"Of course I can. But I think we can also see why Penny wants to move on– they were tough times for her, too. I think she just wants to forget about it and move on to better days."

"And that's a perfectly rational thing to do. The problem is, we're not dealing with a rational guy, or at least someone who hasn't been acting rationally as of late."

"Look dude," I said, rubbing my face again. "This has been really helpful and interesting, but I gotta go to bed. Can I call you tomorrow?"

There was a pause. "Sorry, I have this bad habit of nodding like you can see me. Sure, man, I'll be here. I'll keep thinking on it."

The refreshing, early fall chill was quickly turning into a biting cold, aggravated by strong Northern winds on blustery days. The foliage was still bright for now, which certainly made it easier to get out of bed in the morning. That autumn was the first time in my life that I had lived in such cold without central heat; I had no idea how unprepared I was until it was already upon me. Leah came over one of the first days in November, and set me straight, as usual.

"We gotta get you some flannel sheets and some long johns."

"Do people really wear those? Like the red ones from Hanna-Barbera cartoons, with the butt flap?"

She laughed at my ignorance. "No, you big dummy. Think about it, some of those cartoons are seventy years old or more. Now they come in two pieces of long thermal pants and shirts."

"Oh," I scratched my beard, inspired by thought instead of an itch. "Go figure."

"C'mon, you've lived here for almost a year now. Surely you must be a little more prepared for winter than that!"

"Well, my number one focus has been food. My animals and I have enough food for the winter, at least by frost dates from the Farmer's Almanac, plus about six weeks to be safe. There's a whole lot more than that, but food has really put everything else on the back burner."

"And that's why you invited me over?" She grinned.

"Well, yeah, and 'cause I miss you, and the freaky, artsy buddy that you are."

Our first project was establishing a line between the farmhouse and the animal shelters. In the past, it wasn't uncommon for American farmers to die in between their farmhouse and their barn, becoming lost in less than a quarter mile due to blinding snow and freezing to death. Painting the barn red helped, at least one the way out, but the way back was the trouble. So we drove one stake into the ground right where the stairs ended and another right beside the barn gate. I had spent a pretty penny on heavy sailing chain at Willy's, something that could survive the wind, the cold, the wet, and lots of time coiled up in storage, all of which made chain superior to rope. On the downside, it was extremely heavy. I was able to carry some of it with great effort, but it was too much to ask of Leah, who was content to drag it.

We prepared the pipes in the farmhouse and the animal shelters so they wouldn't freeze in the first frost, and put up sawhorses outside of the ponds and lake on the most travelled sides to prevent anyone from accidentally stepping out onto thin ice. When it was time to move the majority of the cured firewood from the woodshed on the western side of the property to the porch for easy access, Leah drove the sled while I pulled. It was too bad that I wouldn't be getting my horse for another week or two, as I could have really used the muscle at the moment.

As usual, I rewarded my hardworking friend with a hot meal and a share of the finished product, which in this case meant firewood. We came in after the sun went down, which was shortly before 6 p.m. this time of year, and had tea by the fire to warm up after sweating in the cold. "Did things eventually smooth out between you and Elliott?" I asked her.

"You know, they did, just not in the way I thought they would," she mumbled around her tea. She took her with more milk and honey than tea. "Sleeping with someone else made him realize that he wasn't comfortable with us being casual and undefined. So he asked if we could be exclusive."

I nodded. "What did you tell him?"

"I told him I didn't know." She looked a little sad, her eyes trained on the fire, both hands wrapped around her mug. Her hair fell beautifully into her face. "I feel antsy in monogamous relationships. I just want to be a free spirit and love who I want to love. I don't like feeling restrained."

"And that's perfectly fine. Did you tell him that?"

"I did, but I feel like it just made him defensive. He insisted that he didn't want to restrain or control me, but that he wanted to be honest with me; if he told me that he would be comfortable continuing on in an open relationship, it would be a lie."

"Well, it's okay not to know. How much time have you taken to think about it so far?"

"It's been about a month," she said quietly, giving me a sidelong glance.

"And he's still waiting?"

"Still waiting." Her voice was very pensive as she took another sip. "I can't keep him waiting for ever. But I feel like I'm frozen. It's like a horrible, real-life version of that game we all played as kids. You know the one, where you give your friends a choice between two terrible options? I don't want to live a life where I don't love Elliott, but I don't want to live a life where I love only Elliott, either."

"Well, it sounds like he's made you an ultimatum of sorts."

"Yeah. It's very, very stressful. I think unnecessarily so. And I'm starting to resent him for it."

"Well, consider this," I proposed, one great big hand briefly eclipsing the fire as I gestured, "Do you plan to live in Stardew Valley for the rest of your life?"

She thought for a beat, and then said confidently, "Yes."

"Are you interested in anyone else who lives here?"

"Nah."

I shrugged. "I understand that you could _potentially_ be out there porking infinitely many people. But I think that as long as you live here, you'll be effectively monogamous in practice, whether or not it's how you'd want to define yourself."

"That's a good point. I never thought of that."

"I feel like you don't like it."

"I don't," she told me slowly. "I'm afraid. I don't want to be monogamous even by title, or even by the circumstances of day to day life. I don't want to get comfortable with one person and fall into a routine and start to get fenced in by expectations of settling down. I don't want kids. I don't want a family. I want to be free."

"Leah, that all makes perfectly good sense. But I think you also need to take this one step at a time. He's not asking you to do anything of that yet. All he's asking you to do is to have one lover, at least while you're loving him."

She smiled at me, perhaps a little reassured, but still very conflicted underneath. "When does Penny get back?"

"Oh, not until Christmas. I'm going home to be with my family for Thanksgiving, so that should break up the time until then, at least by a little."

"Did you get the Mermaid's Pendant yet?"

"I've been waiting for a rainy day." I drained the last of my tea, savoring the slightly bitter, moist, earthy smell it left behind. "Although, she thinks we're moving too fast. She didn't want to move in with me when I asked her. So I might buy the pendant when the opportunity presents itself, and then save it for the right time."

"I don't understand, though. You and Penny are like a couple out of a storybook. Why wouldn't she want to live with you?"

I shrugged. "There are a couple reasons I can think of. She's always had to be super independent because of the way her home life was; she may not be ready to depend on me like that. But she's also struggling to leave the past behind her."

"Is Sam still giving her a hard time?" Leah sounded annoyed as she asked me, which took me a little by surprise.

"Yeah, I can't seem to get rid of him. You have experience with the type?"

Leah shrugged. "I had a stalker once in the city. It took me months to shake him after reporting him to the police, subpoenaing the phone company to reveal the random numbers he used to dial me every hour of the day and night, changing my locks, changing my phone number, everything. He was an obsessive ex of mine, albeit considerably more attached than Sam."

"God, that sounds awful."

"It was. I was living on edge for months. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep; it almost drove me insane. He would show up everywhere. One night I woke up and he was standing on my fire escape, staring into the window of my apartment on the tenth story of a twelve story building, just watching me sleep."

Chills ran down my spine. I patted her shoulder. "I'm really, really sorry you had to go through that."

"Me too. I hope Penny never has to deal with that, either."

I nodded. "I'm doing everything I can to prevent it. But we don't what to do anymore. He's so fixated on Penny that Sebastian can't even distract him anymore."

"What if we introduced him to somebody else?"

"I don't know. Is it right to pass this situation on like that? I don't want anybody to have to deal with this. I'm almost glad Penny's away at the Freemans, just so I know she's safe."

Leah stayed over that night, agreeing to sleep on my couch with a few extra blankets, a little too spooked by old memories to stay at her house alone. Just as I was setting up the couch, the phone rang. It was Penny. "Hey, my sweet. How are you?" I asked. She breathlessly replied.

"Clark, he's here, he's here. Thank god the doorman stopped him!"

"What?" I didn't mean to raise my voice. Leah perked up out of the corner of my eye.

"Sam came to the Freeman's, demanding to see with me. The doorman wouldn't let him in, obviously, because I hadn't told him to expect anyone. He had to call security because Sam wouldn't leave."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm here with three little girls that I'm supposed to be putting to bed. I can't be scared, Clark," she whispered. "But I really, really don't know what I'm going to do if he comes back."

"It's okay, Penny. Let me make a call and we'll sort this out, alright?"

"Alright. I love you."

"I love you, too." I quickly dialed Sebastian. Leah was asking me what was going on, but she'd have to wait a minute. "Hey man, did you hear from Sam?"

Sebastian sounded more than a little harried. "Yeah. He called me from a holding cell. I don't know what's gotten into him. I'm just about to ride into the city now to pick him up."

"Well, pick him up, but don't bring him home. Bring him to me."

"I won't let you hurt my best friend," he said, his voice hard and sharp.

"I won't lay a finger on him," I insisted. "But he will answer to me."


	15. Chapter 14

After explaining the situation to Leah, I gave her the choice to stay over or to perhaps head over to Elliott's place, as I was afraid that the situation would trigger her, and I didn't want her to be alone. She gave her lover a ring, and he was more than happy to have her. When he heard the fear in her voice, he insisted that he come to her and walk her back to his cottage. She tucked her hair behind her ear as she turned to leave and said to me, "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yes," I said reassuringly, my oversized palm on her shoulder. "Everything's going to be just fine. Go have a relaxing night."

"Thanks, Clark." She gave me her wryest smile. "You're a good friend if I've ever had one." She gave me a hug and walked out the door. The sound of Duke racing to the Southern gate and barking at the top of his lungs told me that Elliott had beat the other party to my doorstep.

Elliott didn't ask many questions. He saw how distressed his favorite lady was, looked at me with the concern on my face and the sense of urgency in the air about us, and offered his arm. "May I?" He asked, ever gallant. Leah visibly relaxed on taking his arm. As they turned away, Elliott gave me a grateful look, and ushered my good friend off the property.

Duke didn't bark again for another forty minutes, this time rushing to the Eastern gate. Shortly thereafter, I heard Sam and Sebastian bickering, their voices loud and rough with each other. Duke raced in through the doggy door. He ran over to me and turned so that his rear end faced me, the business end facing the door. His hackles were raised. The door banged open as Sam and Sebastian continued to argue, Abby trailing silently behind them. For the first time since I had known him, Duke snarled. The two friends grew quiet.

"I can't believe you'd bring me here," Sam muttered darkly.

"I can't believe you'd try to break into your ex's place of work," Sebastian sneered. "Honestly, if I could trust you to answer to Clark on your own, it'd be relief and a half to me, let me tell you."

"What do you mean, you can't trust me?"

"If I bailed you out and, at the train station, told you to meet up with Clark and talk about this, you wouldn't."

"Of course not, I hate this guy." It was stunning to hear these words right in front of me, in my own home. I let them continue.

"But it has nothing to do with Clark. You wouldn't report to Mayor Lewis if you had to– if someone made it simple and asked you to check into _your own mother_ , I couldn't trust you to do it."

"Bullshit," Sam huffed. "How is it such a bad thing when I pursue the woman I love, but not when Clark does? You pursue Abby every fucking day, and it makes me sick, but nobody has a problem with that!"

"Sam, what the hell," Abby asked, stepping forward with an upturned palm. "We're friends, the three of us. Seb and I dating doesn't change that."

"See what I mean? You guys are dating, and nobody has a problem. So why can't we all just accept that I love Penny?"

Sebastian stared at Sam. He became so still and so pale for a split second that I felt a twinge of fear. Then he exploded, "Because, you idiot, what you're doing isn't _love_! You're harassing her! Stalking her! You're invading her privacy and her space!"

Sam yelled right back. I gestured to Abby to get out from between them and stand by me as the two men drew nearer and nearer. She looked a little shellshocked, and rightfully so; neither of us had ever seen Sebastian raise his voice. Duke sat next to her. She derived a little comfort from petting him. "I was only trying to get her to answer me!"

"She's answered you a dozen times! The answer is no, Sam, no! She doesn't love you, and you have to accept that!"

Sam was shaken, it was obvious in the way he stood, but he clearly didn't want to lose face. "You would understand if you hadn't traded our friendship for a girlfriend. I can't give up on Penny," his voice trembled, "when I've already lost everyone else."

"I can't take this anymore!" Sebastian spun around, his hands balled up into white-knuckled fists. "If I weren't your friend, why would I bail you out? Why would I still be here, to ensure Clark doesn't beat the everliving shit out of you? He should, you know, with the hell you've put him through, with what you've put Penny through."

A heavy silence settled down on us. It was like standing in the midst of falling snow when the downy, powdery layer is several inches thick, and absorbs the background noise of everyday life. My ears started ringing.

The Sebastian said, very quietly, still facing my front door. "I'm tired of babysitting you, Sam."

Abby and I looked at Sam. He was frozen in time, shock apparent all over his face. Nobody moved. Silence again.

Then, as if gliding on a hinge, Sam's head turned smoothly on his neck. It was an eerie gesture, because his neck, shoulders, and torso didn't follow. His eyes snapped onto Abby. My heart quickened. I felt her fear, his animosity. "You," he snarled. "Just when I think this situation couldn't get any worse, I have to be reminded that _you're_ here."

Abby put up a decent front. "Again, Sam, we're all friends here. I just wanted to make sure you and Seb would make out okay."

Sam started walking towards us. Sebastian's head turned just a little, watching him from the corner of his eye. Sam had changed a lot since I first met him. There was this look in his eyes that just wasn't right. It was too bright, too wild. It gave them a shine that shouldn't have been there. They spoke of a man losing his inhibitions. They spoke of a man with nothing else to lose.

When Sam got within two or three paces of Abby, I stepped in between them and took a wide stance. I filled doorways, that was my size and shape. In that moment I imagined myself as a door, like in the old Bugs Bunny cartoons when somebody would draw a door out of thin air and disappear into it to escape the bad guy. I would stand tall as Abby's door, as her watchman.

"Get out of the way," Sam hissed at me.

"Pick on someone your own size," I said, channeling a strange calm, like encountering a warm patch in the ocean when no one else is around. I looked down at him. He had probably never been the significantly shorter person in a conversation before, clocking in at around 6'1" or 6'2". He was easily a foot taller than Abby or Penny. The way he approached Abby, with the kind of confidence and a hunger to inspire fear in her heart, made it intimately clear to me why Penny didn't want to be alone with him. I realized at this moment that I owed Penny an apology.

Something registered in Sam's eyes. He averted his gaze. Without looking again at Sebastian, Abby, or myself, he let himself out, and disappeared into the night. We all waited, afraid he would come back with a shout, afraid to let out a sigh of relief and assume that it was all over. I turned to face the remaining duo. Abby was doing her best to look unfazed, and was managing well with Duke's assistance. But as soon as he felt sure Sam was gone, Sebastian ran over and held her up against him, holding his head to hers and apologizing for what she had been subjected to. Abby clutched his back, little tears beading at the corners of her eyes.

When they parted, I looked at them each in turn. They looked they they've been through the wringer, and I imagined I did, too. "I'm sorry about how that all went down, guys."

"No, don't be," Abby was quick to reassure me, one arm still around her boyfriend's waist. "Thank you so much for running interference. I don't know what would have happened if he had caught up to me."

"He wouldn't get a chance to lay a finger on you, babe," Sebastian declared, back to his soft, everyday voice. "Not without eating teeth."

Abby was trembling, and I could see Sebastian's hand reaching around for the back pocket where he keeps his tobacco and papers, since he usually rolls his own. "You guys wanna chill out for a bit, maybe have something hot to drink? You've had a stressful night."

Sebastian runs a shaky hand through his hair. "Yeah, you know what? That sounds really nice. What do you have in mind? We're not picky."

"I have a really nice cider I've been needing an excuse to crack open."

"Sold," Abby says, as cheerfully as she can. "That sounds great."

I pour out a whole bottle of my favorite apple cider into a smallish stock pot (smallish compared to The Great Pot, anyway) and turn up the heat, tossing in a cinnamon stick and some fresh-grated ginger and nutmeg. "Can I smoke in here?" Sebastian asks.

"I'd really rather you didn't. Would the porch be okay?"

"Of course, man, it's your place." His tone was very respectful. He rolled a cigarette right where he stood, without even a flat surface to lean on, licked the seam, sealed it up, and strolled out for a quick smoke. After the door closes, Abby lets out a sigh.

"Are you okay?" I ask her from across the kitchen.

"I'm a little shook up."

"Makes sense to me," I concur, wondering if I have a touch of brown sugar lying around here somewhere. "I saw that look in his eyes."

"Right? Like, that'd be scary no matter who it was on the other side. But it's like, really fucking with me that that was Sam. That was our Sam." I didn't say anything. It sounded like she really needed to talk. "Dude, I don't know what happened earlier this year, but I'm seriously scared that that guy has snapped. Like, I saw something a couple months ago that had me thinking, is this dude for real? Does he see how weird he's being?"

"What'd you see?" I asked, quietly rejoicing in my found sugar, and sprinkling it into the pot.

"The way he's been with Penny has just been… kinda gross. I mean, he always had a one-sided thing with her, it's honestly really old news by now. But he was never creepy, you know? Then this Summer, he starts telling Seb that Penny has been doing this, doing that, hanging out with you, you know. And I'm like, Sam, how do you know that? And he could never answer me. So one night I decided I would find out. I followed him and then realized that he was following her."

"You're joking."

"No, I swear." At this point, Sebastian reentered, followed by a gust of chilly wind and permeated with the stench of smoke.

"Swear about what?" He asked, out of the loop.

"Remember when I told you that I caught Sam stalking Penny?"

"Yeah, I do." Sebastian took a seat at my kitchen table beside his girlfriend. At this point, the cider was good and ready, so I poured us each a steamy cup and joined them. "At first I didn't believe Abby, because the whole idea was so foreign to me. I always thought stalkers were classic bad guys in trenchcoats, not your best friend from growing up in a small town."

"But then one night I was following him, and he was getting really close to Penny. Like, he normally stayed at least a hundred feet back. But this time, he was only fifteen or so feet behind her, banking on there being enough other people around that she wouldn't notice. And he kept getting closer as they moved through the crowd, until there was only about an arm's length between them. I think it was just before the Luau. I could see that up ahead, the crowd would break up into open space, and I figured that he was planning on cornering her there. I had to do something. I was freaking out. So I called out to him, like, Oh hey, Sam! And grabbed his wrist. It was enough to give Penny the heads up and escape."

"After Abby interfered, Sam started developing this complex against her, directing all this unfounded anger towards her. I had to defend her against all these awful things he'd say about her, sometimes right to her face, and I think that's why he thinks I 'chose' Abby over him." Sebastian took a long pause to enjoy his cider. I could see Abby discreetly watching him over her own mug. It was nice to see them so happy and in love, even with all this trouble brewing. "So then I decided I would verify her claims for myself, just to be absolutely sure."

I breathed in warm, sweet fragrance of apple pie spices. "I'm sure Abby was telling you the truth."

Sebastian's eyes widened. "Not only that, but his behavior was getting worse and worse. I followed him for a night or two. Almost right away, I was able to confirm Abby's story. But what really got to me was that he was getting more and more invasive. He was approaching her a lot when she was alone, and it was super obvious that she didn't want to be near him, let alone talking to him, and definitely not touching him."

"Did he…?" I tightened my fist in my lap. I was scared for her.

"He would do all these uncomfortable, super unnecessary touches. They weren't groping outright, like grabbing someone's butt. But they were… extra," Sebastian narrowed his eyes at me, trying to figure out how to say what he meant. "Stand up, let me show you."

"Okay."

We stand a few feet from the table. "You stay there, I'll approach you."

"Got it." I watch Sebastian set himself into Sam mode. He set his eyes on me and approached me quickly, in a way that admittedly put me on edge.

"Hey," he began, immediately tapping my shoulder and coming in for a hug. "Long time no see. How are you, dude?" He patted my back, squeezed my shoulder, found an inlet for a handshake while holding the guise of a conversation.

"Ycch, that doesn't feel right," I confessed.

"Right?" Sebastian said emphatically as we resumed our seats. "Sorry for touching you so much. But that's what he would do. You could see in Penny's every movement that she was uncomfortable and scared and really wanted him to go away. So that's when I would intervene, much like Abby did. I would swoop in with something to distract him and give Penny a chance to escape. I don't know where he would have eventually taken things if nobody ever interfered, but there was a point where I knew I had to act, so I acted."

"I'm glad you did. I just, I had no idea, and my poor Penny…" I rambled, my head falling into my hand.

"She's been through a lot," Abby agreed if only to make me feel better. Her boyfriend added,

"And just think, it only stopped in part because of you."

"Yeah, but I also kept trying to push her to meet up with him!"

"You didn't know," Sebastian shrugged, polishing off his cider. "Now you know enough to read between the lines when she's acting in a way you don't expect."

Abby glanced at the clock. "Shit, is it seriously that late? My dad's gonna kill me."

"Who says you have to go home?" Sebastian asked her, coolly.

"I wish I could stay over, but if I don't come home at all, he'll _really_ flip."

"Well, we can always tell him that it's my fault. My bike broke down. Yeah, that's it."

As they rose from their seats, I offered, "I could always call your dad, Abby, and tell him that you were doing me a favor."

"He might actually believe that!"

Sebastian let out a muted snicker. "You're harsh, girl."

"Alright, y'all," I said, seeing them out, "Get home safe. I'll call your folks so they don't worry."

"Thanks, Clark."

"Yeah, thanks, man. G'night."

"G'night." I did as I promised. Pierre was audibly on edge when he picked up the phone, but relaxed as I explained that I had kept Abby and Sebastian longer to help me with a project on the farm. I repeated the process for Robin. Abby was more worried about her dad's response, but Robin was clearly very protective of her only son, and her anxiety about him not being home yet was so intense as to stress me out a little all the way across town.

I called Penny and told her about what had happened, and about what I had learned. She seemed a little relieved. The girls had all gone to bed without too much worry, she told me, they hadn't really understood what the doorman had conveyed. She admitted that she was a little embarrassed that I knew about all the harassment she had endured. I begged her not to be. If anything, I told her, I ought to apologize, and apologize I did, for not listening to her unspoken pleas. The signs had all been there if only I had paid them mind. She thanked me, and I felt that warm, familiar silence between us again.

My last call of the night was to Elliott, to notify him and Leah that the situation had been handled safely, and to make sure that my little buddy was alright. He assured me that she was, although still pretty shook up. I promised each of them a few bottles from my next batch of homemade wine. That made the writer laugh aloud. It gave me an inkling of what attracted Leah to him, his laugh round and merry like a great bell.

After all my happy outbound calls, I fell asleep on the couch with Duke on the floor next to me, and woke up, several hours later, chilled to the bone. The door had blown open overnight and the fire had gone out. I woke up so cold, in fact, that I felt nauseous. I drew a hot bath and poured myself some coffee so that by daybreak I might be functional enough to tend to my animals. But halfway through a hard-earned soak, the phone rang, and I grumbled all the way to it, shivering violently against the brisk morning.

"Clark, I'm terribly sorry to bother you at five-something in the morning." It was Jodi. Her voice was frantic. "But I have to ask you– have you seen Sam? He never came home last night."


	16. Chapter 15

We never heard from Sam again. Naturally, Jodi was frantic, but she had another child to raise, and after a few days of searching the valley, most of the villagers were convinced he had skipped town. There was no trace of him anywhere. With some dark marks on his conscience, Sebastian searched the city for several weeks, but still no sign of Sam. To this day, I don't know what happened to him, if he lived or died.

Honest woman that she was, Penny told the Freemans about the Sam incident, even after the doorman had promised to leave it in the past. They appreciated her honesty, but they had to let her go. My Penny had never been asked to leave a job before. She had a phenomenal track record wherever she went, and the Freemans went so far as to offer her a lovely recommendation to her next job, and to allow her to stay in contact with the girls on a professional level if she liked.

She didn't tell me any of this for several months to come. At the time, all I knew was that my girlfriend appeared on my doorstep in the pouring rain on a frigid November evening. She looked utterly defeated. Her normally perfect posture slouched, and her hair was slowly but surely falling out of her typically immaculate bun. Her body language gave no indication that she was cold even when her lips were blue. "Penny," I called her softly. "Come here, baby."

She fell into my arms with all her problems strapped to her back. _Now they were my problems, too,_ I thought to myself, as I held her tight. "I feel like such a failure," she whispered.

"You are not a failure, and this is not your fault."

She looked up at me with deadened eyes. "I was going to help my mom."

"We can still help your mom," I assured her. "Please come in. You're positively frozen."

I herded her inside. She was too upset to do a lot of thinking. Once I had the door closed behind us, I steered her by the shoulders onto the couch, where I swaddled her in a blanket and started some tea.

"It's not fair," I told her as I put the kettle on the range. The burner hesitated to start with a _click-click-click_. I inhaled sharply: the propane was flowing. Something was definitely wrong with the pilot light. I had to help it along with a match. "Sam harrasses you all this time and then costs you your job. It doesn't seem right at all."

"Oh right– Sam. Is he…?"

"Nobody knows where he is, Penny. He never went home. They're still searching for him. But he appears to have left the Valley."

"And you didn't hurt him?"

"No." I took a seat beside her. The cushions were pressed flat under my weight, but stayed aloft for Penny. "Can I get you a towel for your hair? Or maybe we can make you a nice hot bath?"

She smiled at me, looking tired beyond her years. "You're cute when you fuss over me."

"I missed you," I told her, pressing my nose to hers.

"I missed you, too. But in all seriousness, I need to figure out my next move. I was paying my mom's bills."

"Don't think twice about it. I'll cover it until we find you another job."

She looked at me in disbelief.

"I don't mean to overstep my reach, of course."

"Clark, I– I can't pay you back for this," she told me, sounding flustered.

"I don't expect you to. It's just the help I can offer."

She exhaled. "I'm sorry, but I can't accept it. If you give us money, I worry that you'll want something in return, or hold it over my head, and I'm still not ready to make anything more of us."

It hurt a little, and I think it showed when I played with my hands. Fortunately, the kettle whistled. As I got up to retrieve it, I said, "Well, you're always welcome to stay here as you please."

I poured the steaming water into two tall, thick mugs, some of my personal favorites. Leah had made them for me from clay she had gathered from the riverbank. She had formed them, fired them, and glazed them herself. They were uncolored except for the redness of the earth. They were thick and rustic in look and touch. I plunked a teabag into each and resumed my seat. Penny looked to me as if she'd just gotten an idea. "I just thought of something, perhaps a bargain you'd like to strike."

"Honey, you don't have to bargain with me."

"I'd like to. I won't accept charity," she insisted. She gripped my knee and looked me right in the eye. "Listen. The last time I was staying here, we were both very comfortable, right?"

"Yeah, it was great. It felt like a real home while you were keeping house."

"Would you count keeping house as work?"

"Of course. Don't people pay their maids and cooks and nannies?"

Penny nodded. "Would you accept keeping your house as a kind of trade for letting me stay here?"

"No," I said, but was quick to add, as I saw her face fall. "You'd stay here for free, because what's mine is yours. But if you're keeping up this home, I'd accept that as a fair trade for paying your mom's bills."

Penny smiled at me as if she didn't want to smile, as if she wanted to be very cross with me but simply couldn't bring herself to do it. I pulled her in for a hug. She still had that warm milk and honey smell. Her lips grazed mine, and she told me, "Let's agree now on what I'll do and what fair pay is, along with how long I'll stay."

"Ok," I agreed. We drew up a very informal contract between us, just a simple two-column table labeled with our names. Penny offered to clean, to cook, to care for Duke as a pet, to do dishes and laundry, and in return, I agreed to pay her mom's bills plus an extra twenty percent to put away for a rainy day. If that sounded generous, it wasn't; Pam lived on a very small budget outside of the saloon, and I would have been content to give her twice as much. Penny was the only person I'd ever known to negotiate her pay _down_. She was afraid of accepting to much and becoming indebted to anyone, even me. What's more, she didn't intend to stay long, and hoped to be back out there, teaching and nannying, within the month.

But it was good to have Penny back in my everyday life again. So good in fact, that Penny's month at the farmhouse came and went without our noticing. Penny asked me halfway through December if she could stay a month longer. Then January came, and February, and March, and we were both still happier with Penny in my house than without. Come April, I took a fool's chance on the first of the month to buy a Mermaid's pendant by the sea. I ran straight home and asked her to marry me right on the front porch, sopping wet from the spring downpour. She accepted my proposal many times, crying happy tears and dancing with Duke.

We were married on April 4th, almost exactly a year after I'd arrived in town. We had the simplest of ceremonies, just a town-wide gathering in the square, presided over by Mayor Lewis under a grape arbor that had been painted white to serve as a wedding arch. Marnie, who arrived drunk on port, sobbed ecstatically through the majority of our vows. I knew I'd never forget Penny's face the moment I lifted her veil. It was the first time I had ever seen her hair down in public, ringlets framing her rosy face and shining eyes.

Afterwards, Penny officially moved into the farmhouse with me, and I resolved to make it the home she had always deserved. She often worried about her mom, especially that Pam would be lonely, or become resentful of her for leaving, and felt guilty about her mom's living situation. So we visited Pam for dinner at least a couple times a week, eventually talking her into a quick remodeling of her trailer while she stayed with us; we had to tell her a white lie to get the construction started. It wasn't until Robin finished her new cottage that Pam walked farther from the farm than the bus station, and by then, it was too late. I had to hide from my mother-in-law for a few days, but many years later, she would admit to being very grateful for the house.

Sebastian and Abigail would later leave the valley for a small apartment in Zuzu City. They lived there for several years, taking in all the concerts, bars, and parties they had felt left out of as teens, but when they decided that it was time for them to start a family, they came back, fixing up the abandoned old house on the southern coast of Cindersap Forest. A few other couples married during that time, including Alex and Haley, Maru and Harvey, and my favorite by far, Lewis and Marnie. Leah and Elliott would probably never marry, they both said independently, although I wouldn't be surprised if they also exchanged rings in late middle age.

Shortly after they made their home, Abby gave birth to twin boys, Skylar and Xander, followed months later by our oldest daughter, Hope. After two years, Penny gave her a sister, Chelsea, and two years after that, she gave me my baby girl, Lizzy, better known as Poppy. I guess it was my lot in life to be surrounded by women. I couldn't be happier.

* * *

 _Thank you for following my story through 'till the end! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it._


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